Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.
What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for beauty, and never see the dawn!
It's an odd thing about this universe that, though we all disagree with each other, we are all of us always in the right.
The test of a vocation is the love of the drudgery it involves.
There are few sorrows in which a good income is of no avail.
One's own vanities and humiliations I find a delicious subject for conversation. Things said of me behind my back I don't enjoy, and don't listen to them.