Man Is A Poetical Animal, And Delights

The Most Rational Cure After All For The Inordinate Fear Of Death Is To Set A Just Value On Life.

The Soul Of A Journey Is Liberty, Perfect Liberty, To Think, Feel, Do Just As One Pleases.

The Vices Are Never So Well Employed As In Combating One Another.

When I Take Up A Book I Have Read Before, I Know What To Expect; The Satisfaction Is Not Lessened By Being Anticipated. I Shake Hands With, And Look Our Old Tried And Valued Friend In The Face,--compare Notes And Chat The Hour Away.

I Do Not Think There Is Anything Deserving The Name Of Society To Be Found Out Of London.