“Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.”

“The autumn winds rushingWaft the leaves that are searest,But our flower was in flushing,When blighting was nearest.Fleet foot on the correi,Sage counsel in cumber,Red hand in the foray,How sound is thy slumber!Like the dew on the mountain,Like the foam on the river,Like the bubble on the fountain,Thou art gone, and for ever!”

“There is more sense in your language, Bucklaw," replied the Master, "than might have been expected from your conduct - it is too true, our vices steal upon us in forms outwardly fair as those of the demons whom the superstitious represent as intriguing with the human race, and are not discovered in their native hideousness until we have clasped them in our arms.”

“One or two of these scoundrel statesmen should be shot once a-year, just to keep the others on their good behavior.”

“The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?”

“We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.”

“Now, it is well known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable etiquette.”