One drop of hatred left in the cup of joy turns the most blissful draught into poison.
The greater part of humanity is too much harassed and fatigued by the struggle with want, to rally itself for a new and sterner struggle with error.
The Moor has done his work, the Moor may go.
Gray hairs are death's blossoms.
Think with awe on the slow and quiet power of time.
In a narrow circle the mind contracts. Man grows with his expanded needs.