God Has Thickly Strewn Infinity With Grandeur.

The Globe Has Been Circumnavigated, But No Man Ever Yet Has; You May Survey A Kingdom And Note The Result In Maps, But All The Savants In The World Could Not Produce A Reliable Map Of The Poorest Human Personality.

Pleasure Has No Logic; It Never Treads In Its Own Footsteps.

To Have To Die Is A Distinction Of Which No Man Is Proud.

In The Entire Circle Of The Year There Are No Days So Delightful As Those Of A Fine October.

To Be Occasionally Quoted Is The Only Fame I Care For.