There are three classes into which all the women past seventy that ever I knew were to be divided: 1. That dear old soul; 2. That old woman; 3. That old witch.

I have often thought what a melancholy world this would be without children, and what an inhuman world without the aged.

How like herrings and onions our vices are in the morning after we have committed them.

Let every book-worm, when in any fragrant, scarce old tome, he discovers a sentence, a story, an illustration, that does his heart good, hasten to give it the widest circulation that newspapers and magazines, penny and halfpenny, can afford.

A nation to be great ought to be compressed in its increment by nations more civilized than itself.

Novels are to love as fairy tales to dreams.

Brute animals have the vowel sounds; man only can utter consonants.