Honor is the most capricious in her rewards. She feeds us with air, and often pulls down our house, to build our monument.

He that swells in prosperity will be sure to shrink in adversity.

The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.

Heaven may have happiness as utterly unknown to us as the gift of perfect vision would be to a man born blind. If we consider the inlets of pleasure from five senses only, we may be sure that the same Being who created us could have given us five hundred, if He had pleased.

All preceptors should have that kind of genius described by Tacitus, "equal to their business, but not above it;" a patient industry, with competent erudition; a mind depending more on its correctness than its originality, and on its memory rather than on its invention.

When you have nothing to say, say nothing.

That is fine benevolence, finely executed, which, like the Nile, comes from hidden sources.