In spite of his practical ability, some of his experience had petrified into maxims and quotations.

One of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn away its eyes from the thing that pains it.

Our sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place of dilettanteism [sic] and make us feel that the quality of our action is not a matter of indifference.

Self-consciousness of the manner is the expensive substitute for simplicity.

Death is the only physician, the shadow of his valley the only journeying that will cure us of age and the gathering fatigue of years.

Who has not felt the beauty of a woman's arm? The unspeakable suggestions of tenderness that lie in the dimpled elbow, and all the varied gently-lessening curves, down to the delicate wrist, with its tiniest, almost imperceptible nicks in the firm softness.

Shall we, because we walk on our hind feet, assume to ourselves only the privilege of imperishability?