There is no instinct like that of the heart.

And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Hatred is the madness of the heart.

Yes! Ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.

Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?

The Cardinal is at his wit's end - it is true that he had not far to go.