Silence never makes any blunders.
I don't care how much a man talks, if he only says it in a few words.
Admiration is a youthful fancy will which scarcely ever survives to mature years.
Ill-nature is a sort of running sore of the disposition.
It ain't no disgrace for a man to fall, but to lie there and grunt is.
If you ever find happiness by hunting for it, you will find it, as the old woman did her lost spectacles, safe on her own nose all the time.