What is life? A gulf of troubled waters, where the soul, like a vexed bark, is tossed upon the waves of pain and pleasure by the wavering breath of passions.

Good taste is his religion, his morality, his standard, and his test.

A preface is a species of literary luxury, where an author, like a lover, is privileged to be egotistical.

no hour arrives so soon as the one we dread.

If there be any one habit which more than another is the dry rot of all that is high and generous in youth, it is the habit of ridicule.

All sweeping assertions are erroneous.

And this is woman's fate: all her affections are called into life by winning flatteries, and then thrown back upon themselves to perish; and her heart, her trusting heart, filled with weak tenderness, is left to bleed or break!