“An idea can turn to dust or magic, depending on the talent that rubs against it.”

“Lecktrickery?” grinned the fool boys, rubbing their rabbits’ feet against the spell of these longest syllables in all Tarnation.”

“Therein lies the rub.”

“Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?And, live we how we can, yet die we must.”

“Work as if everything depended upon work and pray as if everything depended upon prayer.”

“Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee; thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.”

“To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?”