My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.

Pride's chickens have bonny feathers, but they are an expensive brood to rear. They eat up everything, and are always lean when brought to market.

A man gazing at the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles in the road.

If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.

Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.

Thoughts must come naturally, like wild-flowers; they cannot be forced in a hot-bed, even although aided by the leaf-mould of your past.

Fame is but an inscription on a grave, and glory the melancholy blazon on a coffin lid.