Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly-arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.

If truth were everywhere to be shown, a scarlet letter would blaze forth on many a bosom.

The love of posterity is the consequence of the necessity of death. If a man were sure of living forever here, he would not care about his offspring.

Would Time but await the close of our favorite follies, we should all be young men, all of us, and until Doom's Day.

We dream in our waking moments, and walk in our sleep.

What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!

Earth has one angel less and heaven one more, since yesterday.