Our minds are like our stomaches; they are whetted by the change of their food, and variety supplies both with fresh appetite.
Men, even when alone, lighten their labors by song, however rude it may be.
Suffering itself does less afflict the senses than the apprehension of suffering.
The perfection of art is to conceal art.
It is the heart which inspires eloquence.
From writing rapidly it does not result that one writes well, but from writing well it results that one writes rapidly.