Novelist

Yet habit - strange thing! what cannot habit accomplish?

Hope is the struggle of the soul, breaking loose from what is perishable, and attesting her eternity.

There is one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath.

There is sorrow in the world, but goodness too; and goodness that is not greenness, either, no more than sorrow is.

We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.

Art is the objectification of feeling.

To be called one thing, is oftentimes to be another.

Yet habit - strange thing! what cannot habit accomplish?

It is not down in any map; true places never are.

There is all of the difference in the world between paying and being paid.

Where do murderers go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar?

There are times when even the most potent governor must wink at transgression, in order to preserve the laws inviolate for the future.

Whatever fortune brings, don't be afraid of doing things.

Hope is the struggle of the soul, breaking loose from what is perishable, and attesting her eternity.

To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart, I stab at thee; For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.

Heaven have mercy on us all - Presbyterians and Pagans alike - for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.

At sea a fellow comes out. Salt water is like wine, in that respect.

There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the true method.

To be hated cordially, is only a left-handed compliment.

He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it.