Is the world all grown up? Is childhood dead? Or is there not in the bosom of the wisest and the best some of the child's heart left, to respond to its earliest enchantments?

Nothing to me is more distasteful than that entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances of a new married couple; in that of the lady particularly; it tells you that her lot is disposed of in this world; that you can have no hopes for her.

I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.

Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!

We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been.

A man cannot have a pure mind who refuses apple dumplings.

The vices of some men are magnificent.