Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, and yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
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- I have seen a thousand graves opened, and always perceived that whatever was gone, the teeth and hair remained of those who had died with them. Is not this odd? They go the very first things in youth and yet last the longest in the dust.
- For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.
- When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning — how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse.
- 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. It is a title dearly enough bought by most men, to render it endurable, even when not quite clearly made out, which it never can be till the Posterity, whose decisions are merely dreams to ourselves, has sanctioned or denied it, while it can touch us no further.
- I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one’s partners in the waltz of this world –not much remembered when the ball is over.
- What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, is much more common where the climate’s sultry.