A woman's chastity consists, like an onion, of a series of coats.

What a sweet reverence is that when a young man deems his mistress a little more than mortal and almost chides himself for longing to bring her close to his heart.

Nobody will use other people's experience, nor have any of his own till it is too late to use it.

Masculine observers, if the birth-mark did not heighten their admiration, contented themselves with wishing it away, that the world might possess one living specimen of ideal loveliness, without the semblance of a flaw.

The marble keeps merely a cold and sad memory of a man who would else be forgotten. No man who needs a monument ever ought to have one.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

The moment when a man's head drops off is seldom or never, I am inclined to think, precisely the most agreeable of his life.