If, of all words of tongue and pen, The saddest are, It might have been,' More sad are these we daily see: 'It is, but hadn't ought to be!'

Perhaps there is no gift of nature that requires as little exertion on the part of the owner as personal beauty. I am not certain but that it is this very absence of effort which excites our admiration.

Love differs from all the other contagious diseases: the last time a man is exposed to it, he takes it most readily, and has it the worst!

Don't be too quickTo break bad habits: better stick,Like the Mission folk, to your arsenic.

Each lost day has its patron saint!

But, when the goddess' work is done,The woman's still remains.

Never a lip is curved with pain that can't be kissed into smiles again.

Your voices break and falter in the darkness, Break, falter, and are still.

Howbeit, though no scholar, I am not one of those who misuse the English speech, and, being foolishly led by the hasty custom of scriveners and printers to write the letters T and H joined together, which resembleth a Y, do incontinently jump to the conclusion the THE is pronounced Ye,--the like of which I never heard in all Englan

The delicate thought, that cannot find expression, For ruder speech too fair, That, like thy petals, trembles in possession, And scatters on the air.

For the glory born of Goodness Never dies, And its flag is not half-masted In the skies.

A bird in the hand is a certainty, but a bird in the bush may sing.

Crude at first [the short story] received a literary polish in the press, but its dominant quality remained. It was concise and condense, yet suggestive. It was delightfully extravagant - or a miracle of understatement

Thiar ain't no sense In gittin' riled!

One big vice in a man is apt to keep out a great many smaller ones.

The only sure thing about luck is that it will change.

It may be broadly stated that.....of all animals kept for the recreation of mankind the horse is alone capable of exciting a passion that shall be absolutely hopeless.

There is peace in the swamp, though the quiet is Death