Woe to falsehood! it affords no relief to the breast, like truth; it gives us no comfort, pains him who forges it, and like an arrow directed by a god flies back and wounds the archer.
One lives but once in the world.
Sceptics are yet the most credulous.
The happy do not believe in miracles.
All of us have life; few of us have an idea of it.
Look at a man the way he is and he only becomes worse, but look at him as if he were what he could be, then he becomes what he should be.