The vices of some men are magnificent.

Dehortations from the use of strong liquors have been the favourite topic of sober declaimers in all ages, and have been received with abundance of applause by water-drinking critics. But with the patient himself, the man that is to be cured, unfortunately their sound has seldom prevailed.

A garden was the primitive prison, till man with Promethean felicity and boldness, luckily sinned himself out of it.

Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.

Not childhood alone, but the young man till thirty, never feels practically that he is mortal.

Man is a gaming animal.

I hate a man who swallows [his food], affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.

Coleridge declares that a man cannot have a good conscience who refuses apple dumplings, and I confess that I am of the same opinion.