Perspective, as its inventor remarked, is a beautiful thing. What horrors of damp huts, where human beings languish, may not become picturesque through aerial distance!

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.

Wine and the sun will make vinegar without any shouting to help them.

So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world.

I tell you there isn't a thing under the sun that needs to be done at all, but what a man can do better than a woman, unless it's bearing children, and they do that in a poor make-shift way; it had better ha been left to the men.

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

Certainly the determining acts of her life were not ideally beautiful. They were the mixed result of young and novel impulse struggling amidst the conditions of an imperfect social state, in which great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion.