Where bright imagination reigns, the fine-wrought spirit feels acuter pains.

Rage is for little wrongs; despair is dumb.

To hint at a fault does more mischief than speaking out; for whatever is left for the imagination to finish will not fail to be overdone.

In men this blunder still you find; all think their little set mankind.

If I wanted to punish an enemy, it should be by fastening on him the trouble of constantly hating somebody.

when these incorrigible talkers are compelled to be quiet, is it not evident that they are not silent because they are listening to what is said, but because they are thinking of what they themselves shall say when they can seize the first lucky interval, for which they are so narrowly watching?

In agony or danger, no nature is atheist. The mind that knows not what to fly to, flies to God.