I like you and your book, ingenious Hone! In whose capacious all-embracing leaves The very marrow of tradition 's shown; And all that history, much that fiction weaves.

Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see another mountain in my life.

Mother's love grows by giving.

For thy sake, tobacco, I would do anything but die.

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

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