The more a man writes, the more he can write.

The last pleasure in life is the sense of discharging our duty.

Envy is the deformed and distorted offspring of egotism; and when we reflect on the strange and disproportioned character of the parent, we cannot wonder at the perversity and waywardness of the child.

One truth discovered, one pang of regret at not being able to express it, is better than all the fluency and flippancy in the world.

The worst old age is that of the mind.

A situation in a public office is secure, but laborious and mechanical, and without the great springs of life, hope and fear.

The smallest pain in our little finger gives us more concern than the destruction of millions of our fellow beings.