There is no magician like love.

When we bring back with us the objects most dear, and find those we left unchanged, we are tempted to doubt the lapse of time; but one link in the chain of affection broken, and every thing seems altered.

Borrowed thoughts, like borrowed money, only show the poverty of the borrower.

When we find that we are not liked, we assert that we are not understood; when probably the dislike we have excited proceeds from our being too fully comprehended.

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

We are more prone to murmur at the punishment of our faults than to lament them.

Religion converts despair, which destroys, into resignation, which submits.