We make way for the man who boldly pushes past us.

Bad taste is a species of bad morals.

Youth is too tumultuous for felicity; old age too insecure for happiness. The period most favorable to enjoyment, in a vigorous, fortunate, and generous life, is that between forty and sixty.

Truth, like the sun, submits to be obscured; but, like the sun, only for a time.

Melancholy sees the worst of things...[rather than the best]

We should round every day of stirring action with an evening of thought. We learn nothing of our experience except we muse upon it.

When all else is lost, the future still remains.