Great is paint; nay, God is the painter; and we rightly accuse the critic who destroys too many illusions. Society does not love its unmaskers.
Manners require time, and nothing is more vulgar than haste.
A cynic can chill and dishearten with a single word.
Give me wine to wash me clean of the weather-stains of cares
No member of a crew is praised for the rugged individuality of his rowing.
What omniscience has music! So absolutely impersonal, and yet every sufferer feels his secret sorrow soothed.