Affection exaggerates its own offenses.

the blessings of matrimony, like those of poverty, belong rather to philosophy than reality.

When does the mind put forth its powers? when are the stores of memory unlocked? when does wit 'flash from fluent lips?' -- when but after a good dinner? Who will deny its influence on the affections? Half our friends are born of turbots and truffles.

I do love violets; they tell the history of woman's love.

Oh, only those whose souls have felt this one idolatry can tell how precious is the slightest thing affection gives and hallows.

Hope is love's happiness, but not its life.

We might have been - these are but common words, and yet they make the sum of life's bewailing.