I can never close my lips where I have opened my heart

When the moon shines very brilliantly, a solitude and stillness seem to proceed from her that influence even crowded places full of life.

Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.

The town was glad with morning light; places that had shown ugly and distrustful all night long, now wore a smile; and sparkling sunbeams dancing on chamber windows, and twinkling through blind and curtain before sleepers’ eyes, shed light even into dreams, and chased away the shadows of the night.

I went away, dear Agnes, loving you. I stayed away, loving you. I returned home, loving you!

Be natural my children. For the writer that is natural has fulfilled all the rules of art.

Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance when he is a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly regardless of him, it by no means follows that he can dispossess himself, with equal facility, of a very strong sense of the importance and magnitude of his cares.