In a Man's Letters you know, Madam, his soul lies naked, his letters are only the mirrour of his breast.

The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay.

Life, however short, is made still shorter by waste of time.

It is so far from being natural for a man and woman to live in a state of marriage, that we find all the motives which they have for remaining in that connection, and the restraints which civilised society imposes to prevent separation, are hardly sufficient to keep them together.

Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. The flowers which scatter their odours from time to time in the paths of life, grow up without culture from seeds scattered by chance.

Guilt once harbored in the conscious breast, intimidates the brave, degrades the great.

People seldom read a book which is given to them; and few are given. The way to spread a work is to sell it at a low price. No man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence without an intention to read it.