It would seem as if the very language of our parlors would lose all its nerve and degenerate into palaver wholly, our lives pass at such remoteness from its symbols, and its metaphors and tropes are necessarily so far fetched.

Poverty ... It is life near the bone, where it is sweetest.

The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly.

Men cannot conceive of a state of things so fair that it cannot be realized.

The sport of digging the bait is nearly equal to that of catching the fish, when one's appetite is not too keen.

The Slothful do not have the time to become virtuous or despicable.

Even the best things are not equal to their fame.