Men are so constituted that every one undertakes what he sees another successful in, whether he has aptitude for it or not.

No one knows what he is doing so long as he is acting rightly; but of what is wrong one is always conscious.

The one who acts is always without conscience; nobody has a conscience but the contemplative person.

The mortal race is far too weak not to grow dizzy on unwonted brights.

Who is the wisest man? He who neither knows or wishes for anything else than what happens.

Rash combat oft immortalizes man; if he should fall, he is renowned in song; but after-ages reckon not the ceaseless tears which the forsaken woman sheds. Poets tell us not of the many nights consumed in weeping, or of the dreary days wherein her anguished soul vainly yearns to call her loved one back.

The new vulcanism is really a daring attempt to connect the present, incomprehensible world to a past, unknown one.