Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is a new creation, and combinations are simply endless.

The world so quickly adjusts itself after any loss, that the return of the departed would nearly always throw it, even the circle most interested, into confusion.

There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.

The love of dirt is among the earliest of passions, as it is the latest.

Woman is perpetual revolution, and is that element in the world which continually destroys and recreates.

We are half ruined by conformity, but we should be wholly ruined without it.

The tenure of a literary reputation is the most uncertain and fluctuating of all.