His morality is all sympathy, just what morality should be

Books are never finished, They are merely abandoned.

Thin-lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair, hinted at prudence, quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes the name of common sense.

Let me be surrounded by luxury, I can do without the necessities!

She doth mean the earth to me! By earth, I actually mean dust.

I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.