Yet the deepest truths are best read between the lines, and, for the most part, refuse to be written.

Good-humor, gay spirits, are the liberators, the sure cure for spleen and melancholy. Deeper than tears, these irradiate the tophets with their glad heavens. Go laugh, vent the pits, transmuting imps into angels by the alchemy of smiles. The satans flee at the sight of these redeemers.

We climb to heaven most often on the ruins of our cherished plans, finding our failures were successes.

Who loves a garden, still his Eden keeps, Perennial pleasures plants, and wholesome harvests reaps.

Our notion of the perfect society embraces the family as its center and ornament, and this paradise is not secure until children appear to animate and complete the picture.

A birthday is a good time to begin a new; throwing away the old habits, as you would old clothes, and never putting them again.

Debate is masculine, conversation is feminine.