How very satisfactory those discussions must be, where each party retains their own opinion!
habit is our idea of eternity.
it is a curious fact, but one which all experience owns, that people do not desire so much to appear better, as to appear different from what they really are.
One would think that an unsuccessful volume was like a degree in the school of reviewing. One unread work makes the judge bitter enough; but a second failure, and he is quite desperate in his damnation. I do believe one half of the injustice - the severity of 'the ungentle craft' originates in its own want of success: they cannot forgive the popularity which has passed them over.
Do anything but love; or if thou lovest and art a woman, hide thy love from him whom thou dost worship; never let him know how dear he is; flit like a bird before him; lead him from tree to tree, from flower to flower; but be not won, or thou wilt, like that bird, when caught and caged, be left to pine neglected and perish in forgetfulness.
Nothing more strongly marks the insufficiency of luxuries than the ease with which people grow accustomed to them; they are rather known by their want than by their presence. The word 'blasé' has been coined expressly for the use of the upper classes.
Surprises are like misfortunes or herrings - they rarely come single.
... many a heart is caught in the rebound ... Pride may be soothed by the ready devotion of another; vanity may be excited the more keenly by recent mortification.
sight-seeing gratifies us in different ways. First, there is the pleasure of novelty; secondly, either that of admiration or fault-finding - the latter a very animated enjoyment.
There are words to paint the misery of love, but none to paint its happiness.
who has not experienced, at some time or other, that words had all the relief of tears?
he who seeks pleasure with reference to himself, not others, will ever find that pleasure is only another name for discontent.
A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble.
Social life is filled with doubts and vain aspirings; solitude, when the imagination is dethroned, is turned to weariness and ennui.
The lover and the physician are each popular from the same cause - we talk to them of nothing but ourselves.
In our road through life we may happen to meet with a man casting a stone reverentially to enlarge the cairn of another which stone he has carried in his bosom to sling against that very other's head.
The past is perpetual youth to the heart.
Alas! we give our own coloring to the actions of others.
Hard are life's early steps; and but that youth is buoyant, confident, and strong in hope, men would behold its threshold, and despair.
It is said that ridicule is the test of truth: it is never applied, but when we wish to deceive ourselves.
Alas! we makeA ladder of our thoughts, where angels step,But sleep ourselves at the foot: our high resolvesLook down upon our slumbering acts.
Repentance is a one-faced Janus, ever looking to the past.
I cannot see why a taste for the country should be held so very indispensable a requisite for excellence; but really people talk of it as if it were a virtue, and as if an opposite opinion was, to say the least of it, very immoral.
Good taste is his religion, his morality, his standard, and his test.
In sad truth, half our forebodings of our neighbors are but our own wishes, which we are ashamed to utter in any other form.
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