The loneliness is the mother of wisdom. - Laurence Sterne

Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that’s precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw—and ’tis thou who lift’st him up to Heaven!—Eternal Fountain of our feelings!

... yanlış yanlıştır, nerede olursa olsun, nereye düşerse düşsün, ister bir ondalık, ister bir libre ağırlığında olsun, doğruya ölümcül bir darbe vurur ve onu karanlık kuyusunun dibine mahkûm eder - ister kelebeğin kanadındaki toz zerreciği kadar, ister güneşin, ayın ve bütün yıldızların ekseni büyüklüğünde olsun, yanlış yanlıştır. Bu yeterince önemsenmediği ve gerek kamusal, gerekse düşünsel sorunlarda gereğince uygulanmadığı için, dünyadaki pek çok şey şirazesinden çıkmıştır.

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing; that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost: Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly, I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me.