Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?

Individuality is to be preserved and respected everywhere, as the root of everything good.

I have made as much out of myself as could be made of the stuff, and no man should require more.

Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.

Joys are our wings, sorrows our spurs.

A man never discloses his own character so clearly as when he describes anothers.

We learn our virtues from our friends who love us; our faults from the enemy who hates us. We cannot easily discover our real character from a friend. He is a mirror, on which the warmth of our breath impedes the clearness of the reflection.