Death by hanging. . . well, in view of the whole situation, I never expected anything different. It's all right.
There's sure no passion in the human soul, But finds its food in music.
What shall we call this undetermin'd state, This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless oceans, That whence we came, and that to which we tend?
When gratitude o'erflows the swelling heart, and breathes in free and uncorrupted praise for benefits received, propitious heaven takes such acknowledgment as fragrant incense, and doubles all its blessings.
A noble birth and fortune, though they make not a bad man good, yet they are a real advantage to a worthy one and place his virtues in a fairer light.
The firmest purpose of a woman's heart to well-timed, artful flattery may yield.
Truth is truth, though from an enemy, and spoken in malice.
The lion is ashamed, it's true, when he hunts with the fox.
Pretty please. With sugar.
Every reader finds himself. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.
Anything was better than playing cards, and I was doing something I wanted to do creating.