There are two kinds of poets: those who feel and those who express themselves. The former are happier.

A mother's life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible. Not an hour but has its joys and fears.

Who shall ever tell how much an unmerited disfavor crushes a shy person? Who can ever depict the misfortunes of timidity?

On the moral plane, true friends enjoy the same protection as the sense of smell confers upon dogs. They scent the sorrow of their friends, they divine its causes, and they clasp it to their minds and hearts.

The national budget is not a safe-deposit box. It is a spray can.

To be happy, a man must love his wife as she chooses to be loved.

Conscience is a cudgel which all men pick up in order to thwack their neighbors instead of applying it to their own shoulders.