Have you never seen a strange unconnected deformed representation of a figure, which seen in another point of view, became proportioned and agreeable? It is the picture of man.

There are sometimes beauties in a character which would never have appeared but for a defect, and defects which would never have appeared but for a beauty.

Habit is the cement of society, the comfort of life, and, alas! The root of error.

It would be doing cunning too much honor to call it an inferior species of true discernment.

Pleasure is the business of the young, business the pleasure of the old.

Might not most men be as well named boys grown old.

Taste may be compared to that exquisite sense of the bee, which instantly discovers and extracts the quintessence of every flower, and disregards all the rest of it.