[As they say in the old legends]Before a man goes to the devil himself, he sends plenty of other souls thither.

Could the best and kindest of us who depart from the earth have an opportunity of revisiting it, I suppose he or she (assuming that any Vanity Fair feelings subsist in the sphere whither we are bound) would have a pang of mortification at finding how soon our survivors were consoled.

If a man has committed wrong in life, I don't know any moralist more anxious to point his errors out to the world than his own relations.

The world is good natured to people who are good natured.

Except for the young or very happy, I can't say I am sorry for anyone who dies.

This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is - A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace; All these you eat at Terre's tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.

I have seen no men in life loving their profession so much as painters, except, perhaps, actors, who, when not engaged themselves, always go to the play.