When of a gossiping circle it was asked, "What are they doing?" The answer was, "Swapping lies.

Illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.

When delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension.

If I reprehend anything in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs!

A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are slow to injure.

Prudence, like experience, must be paid for.

Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge; it blossoms through the year. And depend on it that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last.