Thou wine art the friend of the friendless, though a foe to all.

Traveling takes the ink out of one's pen as well as the cash out of one's purse.

Soldier or sailor, the fighting man is but a fiend; and the staff and body-guard of the Devil musters many a baton.

That nameless and infinitely delicate aroma of inexpressible tenderness and attentiveness which, in every refined and honorable attachment, is contemporary with the courtship, and precedes the final banns and the rite; but which, like the bouquet of the costliest German wines, too often evaporates upon pouring love out to drink, in the disenchanting glasses of the matrimonial days and nights.

Ah! the best righteousness of our man-of-war world seems but an unrealized ideal, after all; and those maxims which, in the hope of bringing about a Millennium, we busily teach to the heathen, we Christians ourselves disregard.

And what is it, thought I, after all! It’s only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin.

Praise when merited is not a boon: yet to a generous nature, is it pleasant to utter it.