Every sin provokes its punishment.

Good-humor, gay spirits, are the liberators, the sure cure for spleen and melancholy. Deeper than tears, these irradiate the tophets with their glad heavens. Go laugh, vent the pits, transmuting imps into angels by the alchemy of smiles. The satans flee at the sight of these redeemers.

Labor humanizes, exalts.

None can teach admirably if not loving his task.

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.

Anger is the resentment of the animal, and gentle blood alone makes the gentleman.

Fullness is always quiet; agitation will answer for empty vessels only.