Life Is An Ecstasy. Life Is Sweet

Life Only Avails, Not The Having Lived.

Nature Never Sends A Great Man Into The Planet, Without Confiding The Secret To Another Soul.

I Am At A Loss To Understand Why People Hold Miss Austen's Novels At So High A Rate, Which Seem To Me Vulgar In Tone, Sterile In Artistic Invention, Imprisoned In Their Wretched Conventions Of English Society, Without Genius, Wit, Or Knowledge Of The World. Never Was Life So Pinched And Narrow. ... All That Interests In Any Character [is This]: Has He (or She) The Money To Marry With? ... Suicide Is More Respectable.

The Blazing Evidence Of Immortality Is Our Dissatisfaction With Any Other Solution.

There Are Men Whose Language Is Strong And Defying Enough, Yet Their Eyes And Their Actions Ask Leave Of Other Men To Live.