Money is a terrible blab; she will betray the secrets of her owner, whatever he do to gag her. His virtues will creep out in her whisper; his vices she will cry aloud at the top of her tongue.

To mourn deeply for the death of another loosens from myself the petty desire for, and the animal adherence to life. We have gained the end of the philosopher, and view without shrinking the coffin and the pall.

Fate whirls on the bark, and the rough gale sweeps from the rising tide the lazy calm of thought.

We tell our triumphs to the crowds, but our own hearts are the sole confidants of our sorrows.

Two lives that once part are as ships that divide.

What's money without happiness?

Men who make money rarely saunter; men who save money rarely swagger.