Virtue itself ‘scapes not calumnious strokes.
Every man is the arbiter of his own virtues but let no man prescribe for another man’s wellbeing.
What we experience in dreams, provided we experience it often, pertains at last just as much to the general belonging of our soul as anything “actually” experienced; by virtue thereof we are richer or poorer.
We value virtue but do not discuss it. The honest bookkeeper, the faithful wife, the earnest scholar get little of our attention compared to the embezzler, the tramp, the cheat.
Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul.
Virtue is more zealously persecurod by ill men than it is beloved by the good.
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
Virtue cannot separate itself from reality without becoming a principle of evil.
Vices are sometimes only virtues carried to excess!
There is but little virtue in the action of masses of men.
The virtuous man contents himself with dreaming of that which the wicked man does in actual life.
The virtues we acquire, which develop slowly within us, are the invisible links that bind each one of our existences to the others,—existences which the spirit alone remembers, for Matter has no memory for spiritual things.
