Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.

You smile with pomp and rigor, you talk of benevolence and virtue; I act with benevolence and virtue and get murdered time after time.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.

The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.

The pure soul shall mount on native wings, . . . and cut a path into the heaven of glory.