Some minds corrode and grow inactive under the loss of personal liberty; others grow morbid and irritable; but it is the nature of the poet to become tender and imaginitive in the loneliness of confinement. He banquets upon the honey of his own thoughts, and, like the captive bird, pours forth his soul in melody.

The scholar only knows how dear these silent, yet eloquent, companions of pure thoughts and innocent hours become in the season of adversity. When all that is worldly turns to dross around us, these only retain their steady value.

A tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use.

A woman is more considerate in affairs of love than a man; because love is more the study and business of her life.

Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven.

Those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home.

I am always at a loss at how much to believe of my own stories.