The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.

It is to the credit of human nature that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates.

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

All brave men love; for he only is brave who has affections to fight for, whether in the daily battle of life, or in physical contests.

There is an alchemy of quiet malice by which women can concoct a subtle poison from ordinary trifles.

Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart!

it is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.