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?

While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.

Don't introduce me to that man! I want to go on hating him, and I can't hate a man whom I know.

A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.

A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.

I'd like to grow very old as slowly as possible.

My only books Were woman's looks,- And folly 's all they 've taught me.