Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.

Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, that you are dreadfully like other people.

A wise skepticism is the first attribute of a good critic.

It is not a great Xerxes army of words, but a compact Greek ten thousand that march safely down to posterity.

Who's not sat tense before his own heart's curtain.

What a man pays for bread and butter is worth its market value, and no more. What he pays for love's sake is gold indeed, which has a lure for angels' eyes, and rings well upon God's touchstone.

Men's thoughts and opinions are in a great degree vassals of him who invents a new phrase or re-applies an old epithet. The thought or feeling a thousand times repeated becomes his at last who utters it best.