A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.

My friend is not perfect-no more than I am-and so we suit each other admirable.

Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.

A thought may be very commendable as a thought, but I value it chiefly as a window through which I can obtain insight on the thinker.

To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.

Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!

Your death and my death are mainly of importance to ourselves. The black plumes will be stripped off our hearses within the hour; tears will dry, hurt hearts close again, our graves grow level with the church-yard, and although we are away, the world wags on. It does not miss us; and those who are near us, when the first strangeness of vacancy wears off, will not miss us much either.