There is nothing more universally commended than a fine day; the reason is that people can commend it without envy.

A liar begins with making falsehood appear like truth, and ends with making truth itself appear like falsehood.

There is a certain flimsiness of poetry which seems expedient in a song.

The regard one shows economy, is like that we show an old aunt who is to leave us something at last.

Deference often shrinks and withers as much upon the approach of intimacy as the sensitive plant does upon the touch of one's finger.

My banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep.

It is true there is nothing displays a genius, I mean a quickness of genius, more than a dispute; as two diamonds, encountering, contribute to each other's luster. But perhaps the odds is much against the man of taste in this particular.