Truth, after all, wears a different face to everybody, and it would be too tedious to wait till all were agreed. She is said to lie at the bottom of a well, for the very reason, perhaps, that whoever looks down in search of her sees his own image at the bottom, and is persuaded not only that he has seen the goddess, but that she is far better looking than he had imagined.

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, himself, his hungering neighbor and me.

The time is ripe, and rotten-ripe, for change... [Truth's] mirror is turned forward, to reflect The promise of the future, not the past.

There is no self-delusion more fatal than that which makes the conscience dreamy with the anodyne of lofty sentiments, while the life is groveling and sensual

Sentiment is intellectualized emotion; emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy.

Granting our wish is one of Fate's saddest jokes.

May is a pious fraud of the almanac.