Authors and lovers always suffer some infatuation, from which only absence can set them free.

We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know because they have never deceived us.

No man is much regarded by the rest of the world. He that considers how little he dwells upon the condition of others, will learn how little the attention of others is attracted by himself. While we see multitudes passing before us, of whom perhaps not one appears to deserve our notice or excites our sympathy, we should remember, that we likewise are lost in the same throng, that the eye which happens to glance upon us is turned in a moment on him that follows us, and that the utmost which we can reasonably hope or fear is to fill a vacant hour with prattle, and be forgotten.

The time will come to every human being when it must be known how well he can bear to die.

It seems to be remarkable that death increases our veneration for the good, and extenuates our hatred for the bad.

Babies do not want to hear about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles.

What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure.