Let us only hate hatred; and once give love a play, we will fall in love with a unicorn.

Woe to him who seeks to please rather than appall.

There is nothing so slipperily alluring as sadness; we become sad in the first place by having nothing stirring to do; we continue in it, because we have found a snug sofa at last.

In truth, a mature man who uses hair oil, unless medicinally, that man has probably got a quoggy spot in him somewhere.

Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins?

We die, because we live.

...The silent reminiscence of hardships departed, is sweeter than the presence of delight.