Our vanities differ as our noses do: all conceit is not the same conceit, but varies in correspondence with the minutiae of mental make in which one of us differs from another.
Our passions do not live apart in locked chambers, but, dressed in their small wardrobe of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, feeding out of the common store according to their appetite.
Our love at its highest flood rushes beyond its object, and loses itself in the sense of divine mystery.
Our life is determined for us; and it makes the mind very free when we give up wishing, and only think of bearing what is laid upon us, and doing what is given us to do.
Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.
Opposition may become sweet to a man when he has christened it persecution.
Only in the agony of parting we look into the depths of love.
One way of getting an idea of our fellow-countrymen’s miseries is to go and look at their pleasures.
One of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn its eyes away from the thing that pains it.
One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!
