What, then, remains but that we still should cry, For being born, and, being born, to die?
It's not what we profess but what we practice that gives us integrity.
God hangs the greatest weights upon the smallest wires.
The worst solitude is to have no real friendships.
The joys of parents are secret, and so are their grieves and fears.
Things alter for the worse spontaneously, if they be not altered for the better designedly.