Noblest minds are easiest bent.
It is tedious to tell again tales already plainly told.
...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.
Reproach is infinite, and knows no end.
Men in their generations are like the leaves of the trees. The wind blows and one year's leaves are scattered on the ground; but the trees burst into bud and put on fresh ones when the spring comes round.
There is a strength in the even of very sorry men