Literature, like a gypsy, to be picturesque, should be a little ragged.
Gravity is more suggestive than convincing.
Wishes, at least, are the easy pleasures of the poor.
Wits, like drunken men with swords, are apt to draw their steel upon their best acquaintances.
The sharp employ the sharp; verily, a man may be known by his attorney.
If an earthquake were to engulf England tomorrow, the English would manage to meet and dine somewhere among the rubbish, just to celebrate the event.
A man, so to speak, who is not able to bow to his own conscience every morning is hardly in a condition to respectfully salute the world at any other time of the day.
A man is in no danger so long as he talks his love; but to write it is to impale himself on his own pothooks.
Nature designed us to be of good cheer.
Duty, though set about by thorns, may still be made a staff supporting even while it tortures. Cast it away, and, like the prophet’s wand, it changes to a snake.
Man owes two solemn debts – one to society, and one to-nature. It is only when he pays the second that he covers the first.
Etiquette has no regard for moral qualities.
A man never so beautifully shows his own strength as when he respects a woman’s softness.
Nothing is so beneficial to a young author as the advice of a man whose judgment stands constitutionally at the freezing-point.
Grumblers deserve to be operated upon surgically; their trouble is usually chronic.
Humor is the harmony of the heart.
The blackest of fluid is used as an agent to enlighten the world.
Intemperance is the epitome of every crime, the cause of every kind of misery.
Habitual intoxication is the epitome of every crime.
There are some people as obtuse in recognizing an argument as they are in appreciating wit. You couldn’t drive it into their heads with a hammer.
I would like to have a second chance at my first love.