I do not think that life has a suspense more sickening than that of expecting a letter which does not come.

it is a curious fact, but one which all experience owns, that people do not desire so much to appear better, as to appear different from what they really are.

How often, in this cold and bitter world, is the warm heart thrown back upon itself! Cold, careless, are we of another's grief; we wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness.

My heart is its own grave!

Few save the poor feel for the poor.

I will look on the stars and look on thee, and read the page of thy destiny.

Nothing is so fortunate for mankind as its diversity of opinion.