Man owes two solemn debts--one to society, and one to-nature. It is only when he pays the second that he covers the first.

After all there is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any other gown in the world.

Duty, though set about by thorns, may still be made a staff supporting even while it tortures. Cast it away, and, like the prophet's wand, it changes to a snake.

Humor is the harmony of the heart.

Happiness grows at our own firesides, and is not to be picked in strangers' gardens.

That man is thought a dangerous knave, Or zealot plotting crime, Who for advancement of his kind Is wiser than his time.

Literature, like a gypsy, to be picturesque, should be a little ragged.