Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning.

One only "right" we have to assert in common with mankind--and that is as much in our hands as theirs--is the right of having something to do.

Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move.

About the greatest virtue a friend can have, is to be able to hold her tongue; and through this, like all virtues carried to extremity, may grow into a fault, and do great harm, still, it never can do so much harm as that horrible laxity and profligacy of speech which is a the root of half the quarrels, cruelties, and injustices of the world.

A secret at home is like rocks under tide.

Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning.

God makes many poets, but he only gives utterance to a few.