The good things of life are not to be had singly, but come to us with a mixture; like a school-boy's holiday, with a task affixed to the tail of it.

This is the magnanimity of authorship, when a writer having a topic presented to him, fruitful of beauties for common minds, waives his privilege, and trusts to the judicious few for understanding the reason of his abstinence.

In the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice.

Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.

Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?

To be thankful for what we grasp exceeding our proportion is to add hypocrisy to injustice.

I could never hate anyone I knew.