Fate hath no voice but the heart's impulse.
We are too prone to find fault; let us look for some of the perfections.
The first great law is to obey.
When the measured dance of the hours brings back the happy smile of spring, the buried dead is born again in the life-glance of the sun. The germs which perished to the eye within the cold breast of the earth spring up with joy in the bright realm of day.
Man is an imitative creature.
Man is made of ordinary things, and habit is his nurse.