To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.

I'm not final because I'm right, I'm right because I'm final.

Half as sober as a judge.

I love to lose myself in other men's minds. When I am not walking, I am reading; I cannot sit and think. Books think for me. - Charles Lamb (used pseudonym Elia),

The truant Fancy was a wanderer ever.

How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.