I Have No Consistency, Except In Politics;

The Great Art Of Life Is Sensation, To Feel That We Exist, Even In Pain.

Friendship May, And Often Does, Grow Into Love, But Love Never Subsides Into Friendship.

Tis The Perception Of The Beautiful, A Fine Extension Of The Faculties, Platonic, Universal, Wonderful, Drawn From The Stars, And Filtered Through The Skies, Without Which Life Would Be Extremely Dull

How Sweet And Soothing Is This Hour Of Calm! I Thank Thee, Night! For Thou Has Chased Away These Horrid Bodements Which, Amidst The Throng, I Could Not Dissipate; And With The Blessing Of Thy Benign And Quiet Influence Now Will I To My Couch, Although To Rest Is Almost Wronging Such A Night As This.

Retirement Accords With The Tone Of My Mind; I Will Not Descend To A World I Despise.