To be infatuated with the power of one's own intellect is an accident which seldom happens but to those who are remarkable for the want of intellectual power. Whenever Nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

Make not thyself the judge of any man.

The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting.

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.

Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.