Events that are predestined require but little management. They manage themselves. They slip into place while we sleep, and suddenly we are aware that the thing we fear to attempt, is already accomplished.

the nighttime of the body is the daytime of the soul.

... the evil that comes out of your lips, into your own bosom will fall.

Men can bear all things but good days.

For still I see that forethought spares afterthought and after-sorrow.

This world is run with far too tight a rein for luck to interfere. Fortune sells her wares; she never gives them. In some form or other, we pay for her favors; or we go empty away.

when we leave society and come into the presence of Nature, we become children again; and the fictions of thought and action assumed among men drop off like a garment.