When falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness? - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

"But soon," he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pyre triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell."

I do not know,' said the man, 'what the custom of the English may be; but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.

Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who would gain his fee?