Our wishes never seem so little desirable as when on the verge of accomplishment; we draw back instinctively, they look so different from what we expected.
Death is the last fact of which we can be certain.
People always make mistakes when they fancy themselves exceptions.
Love ... is a sacred fire that must not be burnt to idols.
One's conscience reproaches one much more stingingly for one's follies than one's crimes.
society ... is tolerant of crimes, and long suffering with dullness, but it shows no mercy to those who are different from other people.