A literary movement consists of five or six people who live in the same town and hate each other cordially.
A person travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.
After all there is but one race - humanity.
All reformers are bachelors.
Art must be parochial in the beginning to be cosmopolitan in the end.
But there's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream.
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
Everybody sets out to do something, and everybody does something, but no one does what he sets out to do.
If there were no husbands, who would look after our mistresses?
Ireland is a fatal disease; fatal to englishmen and doubly fatal to irishmen.
No place in england where everyone can go is considered respectable.
Nothing is more depressing than the conviction that one is not a hero.
Reality can destroy the dream; why shouldn't the dream destroy reality?
Remorse: beholding heaven and feeling hell.
So long as one does not despair, so long as one doesn't look upon life bitterly, things work out fairly well in the end.
Those evening bells! Those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells!
Tis the last rose of summer. Left blooming alone.
The harp that once through tara's halls the soul of music shed, now hangs as mute on tara's walls, as if that soul were fled.
Taking something from one man and making it worse is plagiarism.
The difficulty in life is the choice.
There is nothing so consoling as to find one's neighbor's troubles are at least as great as one's own.
