Every man has a rainy corner of his life whence comes foul weather which follows him.

Man has here two and a half minutes-one to smile, one to sigh, and a half to love: for in the midst of this minute he dies.

Never write on a subject without first having read yourself full on it; and never read on a subject till you have thought yourself hungry on it.

Humankind's chief fault is that they have so many small ones.

Every man regards his own life as the New Year's Eve of time.

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

Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.