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

I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early.

Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and all rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling?

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.

My theory is to enjoy life, but my practice is against it.

O money, money, how blindly thou hast been worshipped, and how stupidly abused! Thou are health and liberty and strength, and he that has thee may rattle his pockets at the foul fiend!