Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.

Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are on the sea of life.

It is true, that it is not at all necessary to love many books, in order to love them much.

The soul never grows old.

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the hour of adoration, the hour of rest, when we think of those we love only to regret that we have not loved them more dearly, when we remember our enemies only to forgive them.