Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven.

There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is immediately felt and puts the stranger at once at his ease.

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

Every antique farm-house and moss-grown cottage is a picture.

I sometimes think one of the great blessings we shall enjoy in heaven, will be to receive letters by every post and never be obliged to reply to them.

The almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages.

The Englishman is too apt to neglect the present good in preparing against the possible evil.