Hopes and regrets are the sweetest links of existence.

Toil is the portion of day, as sleep is that of night; but if there be one hour of the twenty-four which has the life of day without its labor, and the rest of night without its slumber, it is the lovely and languid hour of twilight.

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

Consistency is a human word, but it certainly expresses nothing human.

Perhaps, from an innate desire of justification, sorrow always exaggerates itself. Memory is quite one of Job's friends; and the past is ever ready to throw its added darkness on the present.

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

We are ourselves the stumbling-blocks in the way of our happiness. Place a common individual - by common, I mean with the common share of stupidity, custom, and discontent - place him in the garden of Eden, and he would not find it out unless he were told, and when told, he would not believe it.