Poverty has strange bedfellows.

What is human is immortal!

The heart of a man's like that delicate weed, / Which requires to be trampled on, boldly indeed / Ere it gives forth the fragrance you wish to extract.

Nothing can constitute good-breeding that has not good-nature for its foundation.

Fate is not the ruler, but the servant of Providence.

The Italians have voices like peacocks - German gives me a cold in the head - and Russian is nothing but sneezing

Two lives that once part are as ships that divide.