What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.
I think what we call the dullness of things is a disease in ourselves. Else how could anyone find an intense interest in life? And many do.
When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.
It's all one web, sir. The prosperity of the country is one web.
Where women love each other, men learn to smother their mutual dislike.
But let the wise be warned against too great readiness to explanation: it multiplies the sources of mistake, lengthening the sum for reckoners sure to go wrong.