She had caprices of a marvellous unexpectedness, and how is any one to imitate a caprice?
A novel is like a bow, and the violin that produces the sound is the reader's soul.
The more a race is governed by its passions, the less it has acquired the habit of cautious and reasoned argument, the more intense will be its love of music.
Far less envy in America than in France.
Faith, I am no such fool; everyone for himself in this desert of selfishness which is called life.
God's only excuse is that he does not exist.