Wit makes its own welcome, and levels all distinction. No dignity, no learning, no force of character, can make any stand against good wit. It is like ice, on which no beauty of form, no majesty of carriage, can plead any immunity; they must walk gingerly, according to the laws of ice, or down they must go, dignity and all.

The torments of martyrdom are probably most keenly felt by the bystanders.

It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame: we have nothing to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the despised recollections of childhood. . . .

Prudence is the virtue of the senses. It is the science of appearances. It is the outmost action of the inward life.

All things with which we deal preach to us. What is a farm but a mute gospel? The chaff and the wheat, weeds and plants, blight, rain, insects, sun,--it is a sacred emblem from the first furrow of spring to the last stack which the snow of winter overtakes in the fields.

Manners are the happy ways of doing things; each once a stroke of genius or of love, now repeated and hardened into usage.

Ne te quaesiveris extra." (Do not seek for things outside of yourself)