The soul of the truly benevolent man does not seem to reside much in his own body. Its life, to a great extent, is a mere reflex of the lives of others. It migrates into their bodies, and identifying its existence with their existence, finds its own happiness in increasing and prolonging their pleasures, in extinguishing or solacing their pains.

Both poetry and philosophy are prodigal of eulogy over the mind which ransoms itself by its own energy from a captivity to custom, which breaks the common bounds of empire, and cuts a Simplon over mountains of difficulty for its own purposes, whether of good or of evil.

Love not only occupies the higher lobes of the brain, but crowds out the lower to make room for its expansion.

Be careful never to retire to rest in a room not properly ventilated.

The Chinese have an excellent proverb: "Be modest in speech, but excel in action.

False conclusions which have been reasoned out are infinitely worse than blind impulse.

The devil tempts men through their ambition, their cupidity, or their appetite, until he comes to the profane swearer, whom he clutches without any reward.