When a man is in love with one woman in a family, it is astonishing how fond he becomes of every person connected with it.

Which of us that is thirty years old has not had its Pompeii? Deep under ashes lies the life of youth--the careless sport, the pleasure and the passion, the darling joy.

The affection of young ladies is of as rapid growth as Jack's beanstalk, and reaches up to the sky in a night.

All is vanity, nothing is fair.

if you are not allowed to touch the heart sometimes in spite of syntax, and are not to be loved until you all know the difference between trimeter and trameter, may all Poetry go to the deuce, and every schoolmaster perish miserably!

Oh, those women! They nurse and cuddle their presentiments, and make darlings of their ugliest thoughts.

Young ladies may have been crossed in love, and have had their sufferings, their frantic moments of grief and tears, their wakeful nights, and so forth; but it is only in very sentimental novels that people occupy themselves perpetually with that passion, and I believe what are called broken hearts are a very rare article indeed.