Night's Deepest Gloom Is But A Calm;

The More Sensible A Woman Is, Supposing Her Not To Be Masculine, The More Attractive She Is In Her Proportionate Power To Entertain.

Affection, Like Melancholy, Magnifies Trifles; But The Magnifying Of The One Is Like Looking Through A Telescope At Heavenly Objects; That Of The Other, Like Enlarging Monsters With A Microscope.

There Is No Greater Mistake In The World Than The Looking Upon Every Sort Of Nonsense As Want Of Sense.

A Pleasure So Exquisite As Almost To Amount To Pain.

Words Are Often Things Also, And Very Precious, Especially On The Gravest Occasions. Without "words," And The Truth Of Things That Is In Them, What Were We?