The last excessive feelings of delight are always grave.

An author is like a baker; it is for him to make the sweets, and others to buy and enjoy them.

With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.

There is scarcely a single joy or sorrow within the experience of our fellow-creatures which we have not tasted; yet the belief, in the good and beautiful has never forsaken us. It has been medicine to us in sickness, richness in poverty, and the best part of all that ever delighted us in health and success.

The perfection of conversational intercourse is when the breeding of high life is animated by the fervor of genius.

The only place a new hat can be carried into with safety is a church, for there is plenty of room there.

Bread, milk and butter are of venerable antiquity. They taste of the morning of the world.