Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition.
That unblinkingly vivid Japanese sun seems the blazing focus of the glassy ocean's immeasurable burning-glass.
Genius is full of trash.
Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!
Of such a letter, Death himself might well have been the post-boy.
It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a great secret in him.