“Yes; I am a supercargo; pen, ink, and paper are my tools, and without my tools I am fit for nothing.”

“I have always had more dread of a pen, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper than of a sword or pistol.”

“Fool that I am," said he,"that I did not tear out my heart the day I resolved to revenge myself".”

“Why do you mention my father?' screamed he; 'Why do you mingle a recollection of him with the affairs of today?'Because I am he who saved your father's life when he wished to destroy himself, as you do today-because I am the man who sent the purse to your young sister, and the Paraon to Old Morrel-because I am the Edmond Dantes who nursed you, a child, on my knees.”

“Shall we make a positive appointment for a particular day and hour?" inquired the count; "only let me warn you that I am proverbial for my punctilious exactitude in keeping my engagements.”

“I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.”

“Perhaps what I am about to say will appear strange to you gentlemen, socialists, progressives, humanitarians as you are, but I never worry about my neighbor, I never try to protect society which does not protect me -- indeed, I might add, which generally takes no heed of me except to do me harm -- and, since I hold them low in my esteem and remain neutral towards them, I believe that society and my neighbor are in my debt.”