We are more prone to murmur at the punishment of our faults than to lament them.

Love and enthusiasm are always ridiculous, when not reciprocated by their objects.

Genius is the gold in the mine, talent is the miner who works and brings it out.

A poor man defended himself when charged with stealing food to appease the cravings of hunger, saying, the cries of the stomach silenced those of the conscience.

Sure there's different roads from this to Dungarvan* - some thinks one road pleasanter, and some think another; wouldn't it be mighty foolish to quarrel for this? - and sure isn't it twice worse to thry to interfere with people for choosing the road they like best to heaven?

The most certain mode of making people content with us is to make them content with themselves.

A German writer observes: "The noblest characters only show themselves in their real light. All others act comedy with their fellow-men even unto the grave.