I know, that obscure as I am, my name is making a considerable deal of fuss in the world. I can't tell why it is, nor in what it is to end. Go where I will, everybody seems anxious to get a peep at me ... There must therefore be something in me, or about me, that attracts attention, which is even mysterious to myself.

Most of authors seek fame, but I seek for justice - a holier impulse than ever entered into the ambitious struggles of the votaries of that fickle, flirting go…

I don't know of any thing in my book to be criticised on by honourable men. Is it on my spelling? - that's not my trade. Is it on my grammar ? - I hadn't time …

I leave this rule for others when I'm dead Be always sure you're right - THEN GO AHEAD!

A pinch of notoriety will do.

Mark how my fame rings out from zone to zone: A thousand critics shouting: 'He's unknown!'

What rage for fame attends both great and small! Better be damned than mentioned not at all.