Who first invented work, and bound the free And holyday-rejoicing spirit down . . . To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . . Sabbathless Satan!

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.