Solitude cherishes great virtues and destroys little ones.

I always fear that creation will expire before teatime.

I look upon Switzerland as an inferior sort of Scotland.

Hope is the belief, more or less strong, that joy will come.

A man who wishes to make his way in life could do no better than go through the world with a boiling tea-kettle in his hand.

He who drinks a tumbler of London water has literally in his stomach more animated beings than there are men, women, and children on the face of the globe.

Solitude cherishes great virtues and destroys little ones.