My God, how badly one calculates in this world! ... Let us leave off calculating on anything but death -- it is the only certainty.

We all owe each other concessions of taste and opinion for the sake of family peace and affection.

We are only here below as in an inn on a journey. Let us, then have the feelings of travelers. We should think a man very strange who attached himself much to his inn. The wise Christian will not do this.

One fancies that what one loves cannot die.

Certainly, friends are sufficiently rare not to be neglected; they are life's best comforters.

The errors of the intellect are fatal, still more dangerous than those of the heart.

Witticisms are fire-arms, that make a noise and give pain.