When a literary person's exhaustive work is over, the last thing he wishes to do is to talk books.

Few husbands (and the longer I observe, the more I am convinced of the truth of what I am about to say, and I make no exception in favor of education or station) have the magnanimity to use justly, generously, the power which the law puts in their hands.

Blessed be sleep! We are all young then; we are all happy. Then our dead are living.

Well, it is a humiliating reflection, that the straightest road to a man's heart is through his palate.

The cream of enjoyment in this life is always impromptu. The chance walk; the unexpected visit; the unpremeditated journey; the unsought conversation or acquaintance.

There are so many ready to write (poor fools!) for the honor and glory of the thing, and there are so many ready to take advantage of this fact, and withhold from needy talent the moral right to a deserved remuneration.

Dear reader, true religion is not gloomy.