Sorrow makes an ugly face odious.

For the human mind is seldom at stay: If you do not grow better, you will most undoubtedly grow worse.

There would be no supporting life were we to feel quite as poignantly for others as we do for ourselves.

A man who flatters a woman hopes either to find her a fool or to make her one.

The Nature of Familiar Letters, written, as it were, to the Moment, while the Heart is agitated by Hopes and Fears, on Events undecided, must plead an Excuse for the Bulk of a Collection of this Kind. Mere Facts and Characters might be comprised in a much smaller Compass: But, would they be equally interesting?

The companion of an evening, and the companion for life, require very different qualifications.

Every one, more or less, loves Power, yet those who most wish for it are seldom the fittest to be trusted with it.