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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
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Sincerity may be humble but she cannot be servile.
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Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.
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Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure; men love in haste but they detest at leisure.
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The best prophet of the future is the past.
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For what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
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Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away; A single laugh demolished the right arm Of his country.