The rose is wont with pride to swell, and ever seeks to rise.

None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.

Faith is a homely, private capital; as there are public savings-banks and poor funds, out of which in times of want we can relieve the necessities of individuals, so here the faithful take their coin in peace.

What do people mean when they talk about unhappiness? It is not so much unhappiness as impatience that from time to time possesses men, and then they choose to call themselves miserable.

Hatred is a heavy burden. It sinks the heart deep in the breast, and lies like a tombstone on all joys.

The best pleasures of this world are not quite true.

I wait for the morning of my tears