Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.

It is a characteristic of pleasure that we can never recognize it to be pleasure till after it is gone.

The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in god and woman.

Winter does not work only on a broad scale; he is careful in trifles.

Seated in my library at night, and looking on the silent faces of my books, I am occasionally visited by a strange sense of the supernatural.

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

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.