I never pretend to be so superior a being as to be above having and indulging a hobby horse [her journal writing], and while I keep mine within due bounds and limits, nobody, I flatter myself, would wish to deprive me of the poor animal: to be sure, he is not formed for labour, and is rather lame and weak, but then the dear creature is faithful, constant, and loving, and though he sometimes prances, would not kick anyone into the mire, or hurt a single soul for the world--and I would not part with him for one who could win the greatest prize that ever was won at any races.

Nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things.

an old woman ... is a person who has no sense of decency; if once she takes to living, the devil himself can't get rid of her.

Tis best to build no castles in the air.

We continually say things to support an opinion, which we have given, that in reality we don't above half mean.

Never shall I recollect the occasion he gave me of displeasure, without feeling it renewed.

I have this very moment finished reading a novel called The Vicar of Wakefield [by Oliver Goldsmith].... It appears to me, to be impossible any person could read this book through with a dry eye and yet, I don't much like it.... There is but very little story, the plot is thin, the incidents very rare, the sentiments uncommon, the vicar is contented, humble, pious, virtuous--but upon the whole the book has not at all satisfied my expectations.