“For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.”

“Tis strange,-but true; for truth is always strange;Stranger than fiction: if it could be told,How much would novels gain by the exchange!How differently the world would men behold!”

“Some have accused me of a strange designAgainst the creed and morals of this land,And trace it in this poem every line:I don't pretend that I quite understandMy meaning when I would be very fine;But the fact is that I have nothing planned...”

“But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.”

“A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.”

“If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.”

“But words are things, and a small drop of ink,      Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think;      ’T is strange, the shortest letter which man uses Instead of speech, may form a lasting link      Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces Frail man, when paper — even a rag like this, Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his.”