Impatient people, according to Bacon, are like the bees, and kill themselves in stinging others.

No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.

Affection is the broadest basis of a good life.

Kisses honeyed by oblivion.

Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains; blends yearning and repulsion; and ties us by our heart-strings to the beings that jar us at every movement.

A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills.

Conscientious people are apt to see their duty in that which is the most painful course.