The more I see of man, the more I like dogs.

When at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, - a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.

Happiness is a wondrous commodity: the more you give, the more you have.

O memory, thou bitter sweet,--both a joy and a scourge!

In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable.

intellect is a sin that must be atoned for by leading exactly the life of those who have none.

When a noble life has prepared old age, it is not decline that it reveals, but the first days of immortality.