We are double-edged blades, and every time we whet our virtue the return stroke strops our vice.
This life is not for complaint, but for satisfaction.
We can conceive of nothing more fair than something which we have experienced.
He who walks alone, waits for no-one.
As naturally as the oak bears an acorn and the vine a gourd, man bears a poem, either spoken or done.
For what are the classics but the noblest thoughts of man? They are the only oracles which are not decayed, and there are such answers to the most modern inquiry in them as Delphi and Dodona never gave. We might as well omit to study Nature because she is old.