There is more felicity on the far side of baldness than young men can possibly imagine.
Those who talk on the razor-edge of double-meanings pluck the rarest blooms from the precipice on either side.
How often my soul visits the National Gallery, and how seldom
Eat with the rich, but go to the play with the poor, who are capable of joy.
What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.
There are people who, like houses, are beautiful in dilapidation.