Anger is short madness
The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
A picture is a poem without words.
Anger is a brief lunacy.
Strange – is it not? That of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.
What do sad complaints avail if the offense is not cut down by punishment.
Does he council you better who bids you, Money, by right means, if you can: but by any means, make money?
It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.
Worldly faces never look so worldly as at a funeral. They have the same effect of grating incongruity as the sound of a coarse voice breaking the solemn silence of night.
Nature has given us two ears, two eyes, and but one tongue-to the end that we should hear and see more than we speak.
The majority have no other reason for their opinions than that they are the fashion.
You must not suppose, because I am a man of letters, that I never tried to earn an honest living.
We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know because they have never deceived us.
Insurrection is an art, and like all arts has its own laws.
They teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master.
There is also this benefit in brag, that the speaker is unconsciously expressing his own ideal. Humor him by all means, draw it all out, and hold him to it.
The late M. Venizelos observed that in all her wars Englandhe should have said Britain, of coursealways wins one battlethe last.
In the morning a man walks with his whole body; in the evening, only with his legs.
That fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one.
People ignore the thing they have the most power over. I know so many people who will go to a protest and do something big on an issue. But they won’t deal with that issue in their home.
To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we know what we do not know. For anything that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to them: but they fear it as if they know quite well that it was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that shameful ignorance of thinking that we know what we do not know?
We live by our imagination, our admirations, and our sentiments.
