In women everything is heart, even the head.
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.
Memory, wit, fancy, acuteness, cannot grow young again in old age, but the heart can.
Love lessens woman's delicacy and increases man's.
A man never discloses his own character so clearly as when he describes anothers.
Every man regards his own life as the New Year's Eve of time.