"I do not think imagination an indulgence at all to be permitted in our present state of society : very well for poets and painters — it is their business, the thing of all others not to be neglected ; but in the common construction of characters and circumstances it is an illusion quite at variance with the realities on which we are to act, and among which we are to live."

"[From Mr Trevyllian]: There are three things the wise man sedulously cultivates — his intellect, his affections, and his pleasures. Who will deny how much it brightens the intellect ? When does the mind put forth its powers ? when are the stores of memory unlocked ? when does wit 'flash from fluent lips ? ' — when but after a good dinner ? Half our friends are born of turbots and truffles."

"[From Lady Mandeville]: I hold that vanity is to love what opium is to the constitution, — exciting, but destroying."

"Women in black gowns, and drab-coloured shawls hung upon their shoulders as if they were pegs in a passage — men in coats something between a great-coat and a frock — strings of hackney-coaches which moved not — stages which drove along with an empty, rattling sound — and carts laden with huge stones, now filled Piccadilly."

"The imaginative gods of the Grecians are dethroned — the war like deities of the Scandinavians feared no longer; but we have set up a new set of idols in their place, and we call them Appearances."

"[From Mr Morland]: … the pleasures of travelling seem to me quite ideal. I dislike having the routine of my existence disarranged — I dislike early rising — I dislike had dinners — I dread damp beds — I like new books — I like society — I respect my cook, and love my arm-chair ; so I will travel through Italy in a chapter —"

"… : the ridiculous is the reality of the sublime, …"

"The bitterest cup has its one drop of honey."

"[From Edward Lorraine]: I think that either man's or woman's character stand in a relative position to each other, like the covered statue of Isis, whose veil mortal hand hath not raised. We never see each other but through the false mediums of passion, or affection, or indifference — all three equally bad for observation."

"An invidious epithet is always remembered and reapplied : …"

"… : stupidity is the masculine of silliness."

"Curious, that of the past our memory retains so little of what is peculiarly its own. The book we have read, the sight we have seen, the speech we have heard, — these are the things to which it recurs, and that rise up within it. We remember but what can be put to present use. It is very extraordinary how little we recollect of hopes, fears, motives, and all the shadowy tribe of feelings ; or indeed, how little we think over the past at all. Memory is that mirror wherein a man "beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was. We are reproached with forgetting others : we forget ourselves a thousand times more. We remember what we hear, see, and read, often accurately : not so with what we felt — that is faint and uncertain in its record. Memory is the least egotistical of all our faculties."

"It is worth while to leave home, if it were only to enjoy being of so much consequence on your return."

"[From Lady Mandeville]: His mind divided ! Verily that is making two bites of a cherry."

"He soon exhausted pleasure, and then reasoned upon it : he soon exhausted it, because he wanted that colouring enthusiasm which creates more than half of what it enjoys ; and he reasoned upon it, because his activity of mind, not having been employed on fancies, remained entire for realities."

"I cannot see why a taste for the country should be held so very indispensable a requisite for excellence; but really people talk of it as if it were a virtue, and as if an opposite opinion was, to say the least of it, very immoral."

"Illusions are the magic of real life, and the forfeit of future pain is paid for present pleasure."

"I cannot agree with those romantic philosophers who hold ignorance to be bliss at any time ; but ignorance, when your listener laughs at what you say, without why or wherefore, is enough to enrage a saint. By the by, considering what an irascible race they were, the reputation of the saints for patience has been very easily acquired."

"… whatever people in general do not understand, they are always prepared to dislike ; the incomprehensible is always the obnoxious."

"The merit we are the first to discover, almost seems as if it were our own, and that, like a newly found country, it was to bear the name of the first finder."

"Books, works of art, the noble statue, the glorious picture, how rarely are any of these the subjects of conversation ? Few venture to speak on any topic that really interests them, for fear they should be led away by the warmth of speaking, and, by saying more than they intended, lay themselves open to the sarcasm which lies, like an Indian in ambush, ready to spring forth the moment the victim is off his guard. Take one instance among many. Beyond the general coarse and false compliment which it is held necessary to address with a popular author, and which is repaid by an affected and absurd indifference, what vein of conversation is afterwards started ? Assuredly something which interests neither : the mind of the one receives no impression — that of the other puts forth no powers. The natural face may be a thousand times more attractive, still a mask must be worn. No one has courage to be himself. We look upon others, and our eyes reflect back their images. It is the same with the mind. Even thus in society do we mirror the likeness of others. All originality being destroyed, our natural craving for variety asks some stimulant, and we are obliged to relieve the insipidity by bitters and acids. Who would dare to be eloquent in the face of a sneer ? or who express a sentiment which would instantly be turned to shame and laughter ? Ridicule is the dry-rot of society."

"We travel for many acquirements — health, information, amusement, notoriety, &c. &c. The advantages of each of these acquisitions have been eloquently set forth from the days of Ulysses, who travelled to seek his native land, to those of the members of the club who travel to seek anything else."

"An old servant dearly loves a little authority — and as for the matter of that, who does not ?"

"Sentiment, by the by, is one of those ill-used words which, from being often misemployed, require a definition when properly applied. Sentiment is the poetry of feeling. Feeling weeps over the grave of the beloved — sentiment weeps, and plants the early flower and the green tree, to weep too."

"Believing, as I do, that falling in love goes by destiny, and that, of all affairs, those of the heart are those for which there is the least accounting, I have always thought, that to give reasons for its happening, is throwing the said reasons away — a waste much to be deprecated in an age where reasons are in such great request. It is not beauty that inspires love — still less is it mind. It is not situation — people who were indifferent in a moonlight walk, have taken a fit of sentiment in Piccadilly. It is not early association — indeed, the chances are rather against the Paul and Virginia style. It is not dress —conquests have been made in curl-papers. In short — to be mythological in my conclusion — the quiver of Cupid hangs at the girdle of Fate together with her spindle and scissors."

"People and places are usually flattered in their portraits."

"[Guido] 'I do believe there is no existence so content as that whose present is engrossed by employment, and whose future is filled by some strong hope, the truth of which is never proved.'"

"Strange mystery of our nature, that those in whom genius developes itself in imagination, thus taking its most ethereal form, should yet be the most dependent on the opinions of others !"

"The winding-up of a novel is like winding up a skein of silk, or casting up a sum — all the ends must be made neat, all the numbers accounted for, at last. Luckily, in the closing chapter a little explanation goes a great way ; and a character, like a rule of morality, may be dismissed in a sentence."

"Affections are as passing as the worthless life they redeem ; and the attempt to give them memory, when their existence is no more, has often more of laughter in it than of tears."

"Toil is the portion of day, as sleep is that of night; but if there be one hour of the twenty-four which has the life of day without its labour, and the rest of night without its slumber, it is the lovely and languid hour of twilight."

"There is something melancholy in most natural sounds — the murmur of the sea — the dropping of water — the many voices of the wind, from that which only scatters a rose, to that which levels mast and flag with the wave ; but Nature has no sound more melancholy than that rainy tone among the leaves : you listen, and then look, as if the shower were descending; but your extended hand catches not the drops, and the bough which is blown against your face leaves no trace of moisture behind. We live in an age of fact, not fiction ; — for every effect is assigned some simple and natural cause; — we dream no dreams of spiritual visitings ; and omens are fast sinking into the disbelief of oracles : else what a mystical language is that of the leaves!"

"Night is beautiful in itself, but still more beautiful in its associations : it is not linked, as day is, with our cares and our toils, the business and the littleness of life. The sunshine brings with it its action : we rise in the morning, and our task is before us ; but night comes, and with it rest. If we leave sleep, and ask not of dreams forgetfulness, our waking is in solitude, and our employment is thought. Imagination has thrown her glory around the midnight — the orbs of heaven, the silence, the shadows, are steeped in poetry. Even in the heart of a crowded city, where the moonlight fell but upon pavement and roof, the heart would be softened, and the mind elevated, amid the loneliness of night's deepest and stillest hours ; — in the country the effect is still more impressive. We accustom ourselves to look upon the country as more pure, more free, more happy, than the town ; and it is from the wood and the field, the hill and the valley, that poetry takes that imagery which so imperceptibly mingles with all our excited moods."

"The great reason why the pleasures of childhood are so much more felt in their satisfaction, is, that they suffice unto themselves."

"Hope destroys pleasure; …"

"[… watching the hands move round the face of Beatrice's watch.]: God of heaven ! to think what every segment of that small space involves! — how much of human happiness and misery — of breath entering into our frail tenement of mortality, and making life — or departing from it, and making death — are in such brief portions of eternity! How much is there in one minute, when we reflect that that one minute extends over the world !"

"Who dare look into the secret recesses of their soul, and number their crimes of thought ?"

"Time destroys not half so ruthlessly as man."

"By-the-by, what an ugly phrase "making love" is — as if love were a dress or a pudding."

"… she could not but perceive the absurdity of the small vanities which wore a giant's armour till they fancied they had a giant's power."

"— for nothing is so electric as the kindness of sympathy —"

"Strange that people should use so many more words than their intelligence needs !"

"The truth is, the inhabitants of that languid and luxurious city wanted some little variety ; and the minister (your great men have each their weak point) supported a favourite actress in the range of first-rate characters in the Opera — supported her against the united musical opinion of Naples. One night she sang worse than ever ; and the next morning half the city rose up, demanding liberty and a new prima donna. A body of the lazzaroni also insisted on a lower price for lemonade, for the revolutionary movement was not serious enough for macaroni."

"Many were the disguises he assumed. At one time he even meditated cutting off his mustaches ; — that would have been "the unkindest cut of all.”"

"Confidence is its own security."

"We ask for miracles : is not our own blindness a perpetual miracle ? We live amid the blessings that Christianity has diffused through the smallest occurrences of our daily life ; — we feel hourly within us that pining for some higher state, whose promise is in the Gospel; — our weakness daily forces us to look around for support ; — we admit the perfection of the Saviour's moral code; — we see the mighty voice of prophecy, that spoke aloud of old upon the mountains, working year by year their wonderful fulfilment, — and yet we believe not, or, if we believe, we delay acting upon that belief."

"Advice generally does require some very powerful argument to be taken."

"Essays are written on causes — they might be more pithily turned on consequences."

"… no lady's constancy is the worse for being tried."

"It is the unhappy love — the betrayed, or the unrequited — that shrouds itself in silence. But in the girl, young and affectionate, out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh."