Why cannot one always do, not only the right thing, but at the right time?

It is not work that kills, but "worry."

A perfect marriage is as rare as a perfect love. Could it be otherwise, when both men and women are so imperfect? Could aught else be expected? Yet all do expect it.

Silence sweeter is than speech.

We are all of us very perfect creatures so long as we are not tried.

There can be - there ought to be - no medium course; a love-affair is either sober earnest or contemptible folly, if not wickedness: to gossip about it is, in the first instance, intrusive, unkind, or dangerous; in the second, simply silly.

The plan of this world is infinite similarity and yet infinite variety.