The circle of life is cut up into segments. All lines are equal if they are drawn from the centre and touch the circumference.

Our very wretchedness grows dear to us when suffering for one we love.

He who doth not smoke hath either known no great griefs, or refuseth himself the softest consolation, next to that which comes from heaven.

Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought.

It is only in some corner of the brain which we leave empty that Vice can obtain a lodging. When she knocks at your door be able to say: "No room for your ladyship; pass on.

Whenever man commits a crime heaven finds a witness.

The same refinement which brings us new pleasures exposes us to new pains.