If death, said my father, reasoning with himself, is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body;--and if it is true that people can walk about and do their business without brains,--then certes the soul does not inhabit there.

Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine; they are the life, the soul of reading! Take them out of this book, for instance, /you might as well take the book along with them; /one cold external winter would reign in every page of it; restore them to the writer; /he steps forth like a bridegroom, /bids All-hail; brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.

So much of motion, is so much of life, and so much of joy, and to stand still, or get on but slowly, is death and the devil.

I am persuaded that every time a man smiles - but much more so when he laughs - it adds something to this fragment of life.

In solitude the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself.

Nothing is so perfectly amusing as a total change of ideas.