The burden of the incommunicable.

If once a man indulges himself in murder, very soon he comes to think little of robbing; and from robbing he comes next to drinking and Sabbath-breaking, and f…

Call for the grandest of all earthly spectacles, what is that? It is the sun going to his rest. Call for the grandest of all human sentiments, what is that? It…

Dyspepsy is the ruin of most things: empires, expeditions, and everything else.

Hush, call no echo up in further proof Of desolation! there's a voice within That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof.

She might have been glad to confide all these things to someone. But how to speak about so elusive a malaise, one that keeps changing its shape like the clouds…

contempt loves the silence it thrives in the dark with fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart they say that promises sweeten the blow but I don't need t…