The highest art is artlessness.

To write for a living, according to Mr. Whipple, is coquetting with starvation.

The ignorant ever shun and dread the gifted and enlightened.

If you tell a woman she is beautiful, whisper it softly, for if the devil hears, he will echo it many times.

The diamond of character is revealed by the concussion of misfortune, as the splendor of the precious jewel of the mine is developed by the blows of the lapidary.

The highest art is artlessness.

Real merit requires as much labor, to be placed in a true light, as humbug to be elevated to an unworthy eminence; only the success of the false is temporary, that of the true, immortal.