"Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude i..." — Thomas de Quincey

The public is a bad guesser.

It was a Sunday afternoon, wet and cheerless; and a duller spectacle this earth of ours has not to show than a rainy Sunday in London.

Cows are amongst the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young when deprived of them; and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures.

Nobody will laugh long who deals much with opium: its pleasures even are of a grave and solemn complexion.