Memory is a net: one finds it full of fish when he takes it from the brook, but a dozen miles of water have run through it without sticking.

Without wearing any mask we are conscious of, we have a special face for each friend.

Every event that a man would master must be mounted on the run, and no man ever caught the reins of a thought except as it galloped past him.

Do not be bullied out of your common sense by the specialist; two to one, he is a pedant.

Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.

Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you may kick it about all day like a football, and it will be round and full at evening.