And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
I have simplified my politics into an utter detestation of all existing governments; and, as it is the shortest and most agreeable and summary feeling imaginable, the first moment of an universal republic would convert me into an advocate for single and uncontradicted despotism. The fact is, riches are power, and poverty is slavery all over the earth, and one sort of establishment is no better, nor worse, for a people than another.
If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to himself...that a tiger is an optical illusion--well, he will find out he is wrong. The tiger will himself intervene in the discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.
A quiet conscience makes one so serene.
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.
I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.
The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this "craving void" which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.
My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.
Hearts will break - yet brokenly, live on.
Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!
Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.
Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most; why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.
The drying up a single tear has more, of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.
The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.
Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
I awoke one day to find myself famous.
I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.
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