To The Very Last, He [napoleon] Had

I Equally Dislike The Favor Of The Public With The Love Of A Woman - They Are Both A Cloying Treacle To The Wings Of Independence.

... Who Alive Can Say 'thou Art No Poet - Mayst Not Tell Thy Dreams'? Since Every Man Whose Soul Is Not A Clod Hath Visions, And Would Speak, If He Had Loved, And Been Well Nurtured In His Mother Tongue.

I Never Can Feel Certain Of Any Truth, But From A Clear Perception Of Its Beauty.

I Wish To Believe In Immortality-i Wish To Live With You Forever.

I Always Made An Awkward Bow.