Memory, Wit, Fancy, Acuteness, Cannot

God Is An Unutterable Sigh, Planted In The Depths Of The Soul.

Despair Is The Only Genuine Atheism.

He Thought Of The Mouldering Child, Which Laid Its Withered Thin Arms Around His Soul, As If It Were His Own, And To Whom Death Had Given As Much As A God Gave To Endymion, — Sleep, Eternal Youth, And Immortality.

Age Doesn't Matter, Unless Your Cheese.

A Variety Of Nothing Is Superior To A Monotony Of Something.