Malice is poisoned by her own venom.
Have I done aught of value to my fellow-men? Then have I done much for myself.
Conscience is the sentinel of virtue.
Airs of importance are the credentials of impotence.
A fop of fashion is the mercer's friend, the tailor's fool, and his own foe.
Who, in the midst of just provocation to anger, instantly finds the fit word which settles all around him in silence is more than wise or just; he is, were he a beggar, of more than royal blood, he is of celestial descent.