He who speaks ill of an absent friend, or fails to take his part if attacked by another, that man is a scoundrel.
The hour of happiness which comes unexpectedly is the happiest.
The Sun, the stars and the seasons as they pass, some can gaze upon these with no strain of fear.
The mountains are in labour, the birth will be an absurd little mouse.
What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so beloved?.
There is measure in all things.