“But mad people never die. That’s a well-known fact. They’ve nothing to trouble them, and they live for ever.”

I doubt whether I ever read any description of scenery which gave me an idea of the place described.

A farmer’s horse is never lame, never unfit to go. Never throws out curbs, never breaks down before or behind.

They who do not understand that a man may be brought to hope that which of all things is the most grievous to him, have not observed with sufficient closeness the perversity of the human mind.

One can only pour out of a jug that which is in it.

One wants in a Prime Minister a good many things, but not very great things. He should be clever but need not be a genius; he should be conscientious but by no means strait-laced.

There is no human bliss equal to twelve hours of work with only six hours in which to do it.

The secrets of the world are very marvellous, but they are not themselves half so wonderful as the way in which they become known to the world.

I hate a stupid man who can’t talk to me, and I hate a clever man who talks me down. I don’t like a man who is too lazy to make any effort to shine; but I particularly dislike the man who is always striving for effect.

Cham is the only thing to screw one up when one is down a peg.

Rights and rules, which are bonds of iron to a little man, are packthread to a giant.

People seen by the mind are exactly different to things seen by the eye. They grow smaller and smaller as you come nearer down to them, whereas things become bigger.

There is nothing perhaps so generally consoling to a man as a well-established grievance.

Let no man boast himself that he has got through the perils of winter till at least the seventh of May.

We cannot bring ourselves to believe it possible that a foreigner should in any respect be wiser than ourselves.

Never think that you’re not good enough yourself. A man should never think that.

Wine is valued for its price, not its flavor.