I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional.

The order of things consents to virtue.

I think the vice of our housekeeping is that it does not hold man sacred. The vice of government, the vice of education, the viceof religion, is one with that of the private life.

We fly to beauty as an asylum from the terrors of finite nature.

If the aristocrat is only valid in fashionable circles, and not with truckmen, he will never be a leader in fashion; and if the man of the people cannot speak on equal terms with the gentleman, so that the gentleman shall perceive that he is already really of his own order, he is not to be feared.

We love force and we care very little how it is exhibited.

Thou art to me a delicious torment.