Memory seldom fails when its office is to show us the tombs of our buried hopes.

Thoughts come maimed and plucked of plumage from the lips, which, from the pea, in the silence of your own leisure and study, would be born with far more beauty.

The infirmities of genius are often mistaken for its privileges.

Wit lives in the present, but genius survives the future.

Those who are formed to win general admiration are seldom calculated to bestow individual happiness.

Haste is always ungraceful.

A profound knowledge of life is the least enviable of all species of knowledge, because it can only be acquired by trials that make us regret the loss of our ignorance.