“I strove with none; for none was worth my strife.” — Walter Savage Landor

Truth, like the juice of the poppy, in small quantities, calms men; in larger, heats and irritates them, and is attended by fatal consequences in excess.

Goodness does not more certainly make men happy than happiness makes them good.

There is delight in singing, though none hear beside the singer.

The writing of the wise are the only riches our posterity cannot squander.