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

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

Every other species of talent carries with it its eternity; we enjoy the work of the poet, the painter, the sculptor, only as thousands will do after us; but the actor - his memory is with his generation, and that passes away.

We are ourselves our happiness.

Youth is a season that has no repose.

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.