The subtle sauce of malice is often indulged in by maidens of uncertain age, over their tea.

That which happens to the soil when it ceases to be cultivated by the social man happens to man himself when he foolishly forsakes society for solitude; the brambles grow up in his desert heart.

Vices are often habits rather than passions.

To be ungrateful is to be unnatural. The head may be thus guilty, not the heart.

Poverty treads close upon the heels of great and unexpected wealth.

Cats don't caress us-they caress themselves on us.

Indolence and stupidity are first cousins.