Our senses don't deceive us: our judgment does

To tremble before anticipated evils is to bemoan what thou hast never lost.

Oh, happy he who still hopes he can emerge from Error's boundless sea! - Faust.

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.

To the man of thought almost nothing is really ridiculous.

The follies of the wise man are known to himself, but hidden from the world.

We are our own aptest deceiver.