A woman's hopes are woven of sunbeams; a shadow annihilates them.

Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs.

A bachelor's children are always young: they're immortal children - always lisping, waddling, helpless, and with a chance of turning out good.

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.

It's no use filling your pocket with money if you have got a hole in the corner.

I've never any pity for conceited people, because I think they carry their comfort about with them.

More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not forsake us.