I Consider A Story Merely As A

A Father May Turn His Back On His Child, Brothers And Sisters May Become Inveterate Enemies, Husbands May Desert Their Wives, Wives Their Husbands. But A Mother's Love Endures Through All.

I Have Often Had Occasion To Remark The Fortitude With Which Women Sustain The Most Overwhelming Reverses Of Fortunes.

The Tongue Is The Only Instrument That Gets Sharper With Use.

There Is A Certain Artificial Polish, A Commonplace Vivacity Acquired By Perpetually Mingling In The Beau Monde; Which, In The Commerce Of World, Supplies The Place Of Natural Suavity And Good-humour, But Is Purchased At The Expense Of All Original And Sterling Traits Of Character.

There Is Certainly Something In Angling That Tends To Produce A Serenity Of The Mind.