Panic is a sudden desertion of us, and a going over to the enemy of our imagination.

False friends are like our shadow, keeping close to us while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us the instant we cross into the shade.

We trifle when we assign limits to our desires, since nature hath set none.

It is ever the invisible that is the object of our profoundest worship. With the lover it is not the seen but the unseen that he muses upon.

No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities.

Example has more followers than reason. We unconsciously imitate what pleases us, and approximate to the characters we most admire.