The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street. - Charles Lamb

The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed), resembling—a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy; yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy.

I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.

Thou through such a mist dost show us,
That our best friends do not know us.