Wherever a man is, there will be a lie.
When your toil has been a pleasure, you have not, as Thoreau says, “earned money merely,” but money, health, delight, and moral profit, all in one.
When we take our advantage unrelentingly, then we make war.
When the torrent sweeps the man against a boulder, you must expect him to scream, and you need not be surprised if the scream is sometimes a theory.
When the teeth are shut the tongue is at home.
We must go on, because we can’t turn back.
We live in an ascending scale when we live happily, one thing leading to another in an endless series.
We do not go to cowards for tender dealing; there is nothing so cruel as panic; the man who has least fear for his own carcase, has most time to consider others.
We are all travellers in what John Bunyan calls the wilderness of this world, – all, too, travellers with a donkey; and the best that we find in our travels is an honest friend.
We all know what Parliament is, and we are all ashamed of it.
Vanity dies hard; in some obstinate cases it outlives the man.
To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.
