Every drop of ink in my pen ran cold.

Lord Bath used to say of women, who are apt to say that they will follow their own judgment, that they could not follow a worse guide.

History is a romance that is believed; romance, a history that is not believed.

René of Anjou [(1409-80)] painted a picture of his mistress's corpse as he found it eaten by worms on having it [her tomb] openedon his return from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. This [is] another instance of the strange mixture of religion and gallantry in those ages.

Old friends are the great blessings of one's later years. Half a word conveys one's meaning. They have a memory of the same events, have the same mode of thinking. I have young relations that may grow upon me, for my nature is affectionate, but can they grow To Be old friends?

We often repent of our first thoughts, and scarce ever of our second.

When people will not weed their own minds, they are apt to be overrun by nettles.