If the mind, that rules the body, ever so far forgets itself as to trample on its slave, the slave is never generous enough to forgive the injury, but will rise and smite the oppressor.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

The world loves a spice of wickedness.

Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.

What discord we should bring into the universe if our prayers were all answered. Then we should govern the world and not God. And do you think we should govern it better? It gives me only pain when I hear the long, wearisome petitions of people asking for they know not what. . . . Thanks-giving with a full heart-and the rest silence and submission to the divine will!

Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.

Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.