Champagne with its foaming whirls As white as Cleopatra's pearls.

The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.

Think not I am what I appear.

A drop of ink may make a million think.

There is no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth.

I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

What a strange thing is man! And what a stranger is woman.

Lord of himself; that heritage of woe!

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.

Whatsoever thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast;
Is that portentous phrase, I told you so.

I have a notion that gamblers are as happy as most people -- being always excited.

The very best of vineyards is the cellar.

All human history attests That happiness for man, -- the hungry sinner! -- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner. ~Lord Byron, Don Juan, Canto XIII, stanza 99.

Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?