Ideas in the head set hands about their several tasks.
To be ignorant of one's ignorance is the malady of the ignorant.
Our dreams drench us in senses, and senses steps us again in dreams.
We climb to heaven most often on the ruins of our cherished plans, finding our failures were successes.
Anger is the resentment of the animal, and gentle blood alone makes the gentleman.
Our notion of the perfect society embraces the family as its center and ornament, and this paradise is not secure until children appear to animate and complete the picture.