If a secret history of books could be written, and the author's private thoughts and meanings noted down alongside of his story, how many insipid volumes would become interesting, and dull tales excite the reader!

I never knew whether to pity or congratulate a man on coming to his senses.

Where is truth, forsooth, and who knoweth it? Is Beauty beautiful, or is it only our eyes that make it so? Does Venus squint? Has she got a splay-foot, red hair, and a crooked back? Anoint my eyes, good Fairy Puck, so that I may ever consider the Beloved Object a paragon! Above all, keep on anointing my mistress's dainty peepers with the very strongest ointment, so that my noddle may ever appear lovely to her, and that she may continue to crown my honest ears with fresh roses!

You must not judge hastily or vulgarly of Snobs: to do so shows that you are yourself a Snob.

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

We love being in love, that's the truth on't.

Hint at the existence of wickedness in a light, easy, and agreeable manner, so that nobody's fine feelings may be offended.