I conceive disgust at these impertinent and misbecoming familiarities inscribed upon your ordinary tombstone.
In the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice.
I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
Merit, God knows, is very little rewarded.
We love to chew the cud of a foregone vision; to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act over again, with firmer nerves, the sadder nocturnal tragedies.
When I am not walking, I am reading. I cannot sit and think.
By myself walking, To myself talking.
You look wise, pray correct that error.
English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.
I have passed all my days in London, until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of you mountaineers can have done with dead nature.
A flow’ret crushed in the bud, A nameless piece of Babyhood, Was in her cradle-coffin lying; Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying.
Is it a stale remark to say that I have constantly found the interest excited at a playhouse to bear an exact inverse proportion to the price paid for admission?
A babe is fed with milk and praise.
Be not frightened at the hard words “imposition,” “imposture;” give and ask no questions. Cast thy bread upon the waters. Some have, unawares, entertained angels.
In the Negro countenance you will often meet with strong traits of benignity. I have felt yearnings of tenderness towards some of these faces.
Man is a gaming animal.
I have done all that I came into this world to do. I have worked task work, and have the rest of the day to myself.
I have something more to do than to feel.
I even think that, sentimentally, I am disposed to harmony. But organically I am incapable of a tune.