Only the brave know how to forgive... a coward never forgave; it is not in his nature.

We lose the right of complaining sometimes, by denying something, but this often triples its force.

Shall we for ever make new books, as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring only out of one vessel into another?

We may imitate the Deity in all His attributes; but mercy is the only one in which we can pretend to equal Him. We cannot, indeed, give like God; but surely we may forgive like Him.

Digressions incontestably are the sunshine; they are the life, the soul of reading.

I'll not hurt thee, says Uncle Toby, rising with the fly in his hand. Go, he says, opening the window to let it escape. Why should I hurt thee? This world is surely wide enough to hold both thee and me.

There is one sweet lenitive at least for evils, which nature holds out; so I took it kindly at her hands, and fell asleep.