There never was but one man whom I would trust with my latch-key." "Who might that favored person be ?" "Zimmermann." -- The men of genius that I fancy most have erectile heads like the cobra-di-capello.

You remember what they tell of William Pinkney, the great pleader; how in his eloquent paroxysms the veins of his neck would swell and his face flush and his eyes glitter, until he seemed on the verge of apoplexy.

The hydraulic arrangements for supplying the brain with blood are only second in importance to its own organization.

The bulbous-headed fellows that steam well when they are at work are the men that draw big audiences and give us marrowy books and pictures.

It is a good sign to have one's feet grow cold when he is writing.