One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.
I am as comfortless as a pilgrim with peas in his shoes - and as cold as Charity, Chastity or any other Virtue.
Of all tales 'tis the saddest--and more sad, Because it makes us smile.
Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.
And what is writ is writ - / Would it were worthier!
What a strange thing is man! And what a stranger is woman.