Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.

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Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

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There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken.

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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.

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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.

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If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.

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'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give, No hollow aid; alone - man with God must strive.

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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.

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What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.

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