There are few sorrows in which a good income is of no avail.

I am one of the unpraised, unrewarded millions without whom Statistics would be a bankrupt science. It is we who are born, who marry, who die, in constant ratios.

The test of a vocation is the love of the drudgery it involves.

The mere process of growing old together will make the slightest acquaintance seem a bosom friend.

Those who talk on the razor-edge of double-meanings pluck the rarest blooms from the precipice on either side.

There are people who, like houses, are beautiful in dilapidation.

Every author, however modest, keeps a most outrageous vanity chained like a madman in the padded cell of his breast.