No one can have a higher opinion of him than I have; and I think he's a dirty little beast.

Oh, dry the glistening tear that dues that marshal cheek
Thy loving childern here in them thy comfort seek
With sympathetic care their arms around the creep,
For oh they can not bear to see their father weep

My object all sublime I shall achieve in time...

You've no idea what a poor opinion I have of myself-and how little I deserve it.

When everyone is somebody, then no one's anybody.

Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream.