Mirth itself is too often but melancholy in disguise.

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

Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in: Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I'm growing old, but add-- Jenny kissed me!

For the qualities of sheer wit and humor, Swift had no superior, ancient or modern.

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

The golden line is drawn between winter and summer. Behind all is blackness and darkness and dissolution. Before is hope, and soft airs, and the flowers, and the sweet season of hay; and people will cross the fields, reading or walking with one another; and instead of the rain that soaks death into the heart of green things, will be the rain which they drink with delight; and there will be sleep on the grass at midday, and early rising in the morning, and long moonlight evenings.

The more sensible a woman is, supposing her not to be masculine, the more attractive she is in her proportionate power to entertain.