A friend is a person who goes around saying nice things about you behind your back.

What you are shouts at me so loudly that I can't hear a word you say.

Happy is he who looks only into his work to know if it will succeed, never into the times or the public opinion; and who writes from the love of imparting certain thoughts and not from the necessity of sale - who writes always to the unknown friend.

Manners require time, and nothing is more vulgar than haste.

Solvency is maintained by means of a national debt, on the principle, "If you will not lend me the money, how can I pay you?"

My tongue is prone to lose the way,Not so my pen, for in a letterWe have not better things to say,But surely put them better.

Look out! Behind you!