He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.

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.

I hate a man who swallows [his food], affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.

The most mortifying infirmity in human nature, to feel in ourselves, or to contemplate in another, is perhaps cowardice.

No work is worse than overwork; the mind preys on itself,--the most unwholesome of food.