Since all the maids are good and lovable, from whence come the bad wives?
A miser is sometimes a grand personification of fear. He has a fine horror of poverty; and he is not content to keep want from the door, or at arm's length, but he places it, by heaping wealth upon wealth, at a sublime distance!
I know that a sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature, not even excepting the delicate creatures which bear them.
How I like to be liked, and what I do to be liked!
I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.
May be the truth is, that one pipe is wholesome, two pipes toothsome, three pipes noisome, four pipes fulsome, five pipes quarrelsome; and that's the some on't.
Were I Diogenes, I would not move out of a kilderkin into a hogshead, though the first had had nothing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret.
What have I gained by health? Intolerable dullness. What by mode meals? A total blank.
Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
I have sat through an Italian opera, til, for sheer pain, and inexplicable anguish, I have rushed out into the noisiest places of the crowded street, to solace myself with sounds which I was not obliged to follow and get rid of the distracting torment of endless, fruitless, barren attention!
Not if I know myself at all.
Mother's love grows by giving.
Nothing to me is more distasteful than that entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances of a new married couple; in that of the lady particularly; it tells you that her lot is disposed of in this world; that you can have no hopes for her.
Our spirits grow gray before our hairs.
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
My only books Were woman's looks,- And folly 's all they 've taught me.
Books which are no books.
The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed), resembling - a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy; yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy.
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
(The pig) hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious epicure - and for such a tomb might be content to die.
Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.
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