There are moments of mingled sorrow and tenderness, which hallow the caresses of affection.

Redundancy of language is never found with deep reflection. Verbiage may indicate observation, but not thinking. He who thinks much says but little in proportion to his thoughts.

The idol of today pushes the hero of yesterday out of our recollection; and will, in turn, be supplanted by his successor of tomorrow.

The only happy author in this world is he who is below the care of reputation.

There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind in which we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt where we may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed.

The tongue is the only instrument that gets sharper with use.

Enthusiasts soon understand each other.