There is no wretchedness like self-reproach.

One of the greatest of all mental pleasures is to have our thoughts often divined: ever entered into with sympathy.

All sweeping assertions are erroneous.

The truth is, we never make for others the allowance we make for ourselves; and we should deny even our own words, could we hear them spoken by another.

Are we not like the actor of old times, who wore his mask so long his face took its likeness?

words alike make the destiny of empires and of individuals. Ambition, love, hate, interest, vanity, have words for their engines, and need none more powerful. Language is a fifth element - the one by which all the others are swayed.

Strange mystery of our nature, that those in whom genius develops itself in imagination, thus taking its most ethereal form, should yet be the most dependent on the opinions of others!