Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

Laughing cheerfulness throws the light of day on all the paths of life.

The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering galleries, they are clearly heard at the end, and by posterity.

Paradise is always where love dwells.

Passion makes the best observations and the sorriest conclusions.

What Cicero said of men-that they are like wines, age souring the bad, and bettering the good-we can say of misfortune, that it has the same effect upon them.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.