Moroseness is the evening of turbulence.

O Music! how it grieves me that imprudence, intemperance, gluttony, should open their channels into thy sacred stream.

No good writer was ever long neglected; no great man overlooked by men equally great. Impatience is a proof of inferior strength, and a destroyer of what little there may be.

The habit of pleasing by flattery makes a language soft; the fear of offending by truth makes it circuitous and conventional.

A critic is never too severe when he only detects the faults of an author. But he is worse than too severe when, in consequence of this detection, be presumes to place himself on a level with genius.

Those who speak against the great do not usually speak from morality, but from envy.

He who brings ridicule to bear against truth finds in his hand a blade without a hilt. The most sparkling and pointed flame of wit flickers and expires against the incombustible walls of her sanctuary.