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.

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!

How beautiful, buoyant, and glad is morning! The first sunshine on the leaves: the first wind, laden with the first breath of the flowers—that deep sigh with which they seem to waken from sleep; the first dew, untouched even by the light foot of the early hare; the first chirping of the rousing birds, as if eager to begin song and flight; all is redolent of the strength given by rest, and the joy of conscious life.

There is a large stock on hand; but somehow or other, nobody's experience ever suits us but our own.

who has not experienced, at some time or other, that words had all the relief of tears?

Memory has many conveniences, and, among others, that of foreseeing things as they have afterwards happened.

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