The French Courage Proceeds From Vanity

He Was A Man Of His Times. With One Virtue And A Thousand Crimes. (the Corsair)

As Falls The Dew On Quenchless Sands, Blood Only Serves To Wash Ambition's Hands.

As To Don Juan, Confess That It Is The Sublime Of That There Sort Of Writing; It May Be Bawdy, But Is It Not Good English? It May Be Profligate, But Is It Not Life, Is It Not The Thing? Could Any Man Have Written It Who Has Not Lived In The World? And Tooled In A Post-chaise? In A Hackney Coach? In A Gondola? Against A Wall? In A Court Carriage? In A Vis A Vis? On A Table? And Under It?

O Gold! I Still Prefer Thee Unto Paper, Which Makes Bank Credit Like A Bark Of Vapour.

I Should, Many A Good Day, Have Blown My Brains Out, But For The Recollection That It Would Have Given Pleasure To My Mother-in-law.