He submits himself to be seen through a microscope, who suffers himself to be caught in a fit of passion.

Every man has his devilish minutes.

Where pride begins, love ceases.

He who, silent, loves to be with us - he who loves us in our silence - has touched one of the keys that ravish hearts.

A beautiful smile is to the female countenance what the sunbeam is to the landscape; it embellishes an inferior face and redeems an ugly one.

He who comes from the kitchen, smells of its smoke; and he who adheres to a sect, has something of its cant; the college air pursues the student; and dry inhumanity him who herds with literary pedants.

The craftiest trickery are too short and ragged a cloak to cover a bad heart.