Were we as eloquent as angels, yet should we please... much more by listening, than by talking. |
Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console. |
How strange it is that we of the present day are constantly praising that past age which our fathers abused, and as constantly abusing that present age, which our children will praise. |
Silence is foolish if we are wise, but wise if we are foolish. |
An honest man will continue to be so though surrounded on all sides by rogues. |
Marriage is a feast where the grace is sometimes better than the dinner. |
True contentment depends not upon what we have; a tub was large enough for Diogenes, but a world was too little for Alexander. |
We are sure to be losers when we quarrel with ourselves; it is a civil war, and in all such contentions, triumphs are defeats. |
Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away. |
Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires. |