When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.

Men and women are but children of a larger growth.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

I think I am quite wicked with roses. I like to gather them, and smell them till they have no scent left.

It so often happens that others are measuring us by our past self while we are looking back on that self with a mixture of disgust and sorrow.

The troublesome ones in a family are usually either the wits or the idiots.

Susceptible persons are more affected by a change of tone that by unexpected words.