Who has not remarked the readiness with which the closest of friends and honestest of men suspect and accuse each other of cheating when they fall out on money matters? Everybody does it. Everybody is right, I suppose, and the world is a rogue.

If a man's character is to be abused, say what you will, there's nobody like a relative to do the business.

Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?

One tires of a page of which every sentence sparkles with points, of a sentimentalist who is always pumping the tears from his eyes or your own.

You, who are ashamed of your poverty, and blush for your calling, are a snob; as are you who boast of your wealth.

At certain periods of life, we live years of emotion in a few weeks, and look back on those times as on great gaps between the old life and the new.

What a dignity it gives an old lady, that balance at the bankers! How tenderly we look at her faults if she is a relative; what a kind, good-natured old creature we find her!