Hate furroweth the brow; and a man may frown till he hateth.

How beautiful is modesty! It winneth upon all beholders; but a word or a glance may destroy the pure love that should have been for thee.

Thou hast seen many sorrows, travel-stained pilgrim of the world, But that which hath vexed thee most, hath been the looking for evil; And though calamities have crossed thee, and misery been heaped on thy head, Yet ills that never happened, have chiefly made thee wretched.

Every green herb, from the lotus to the darnel, is rich with delicate aids to help incurious man.

A spark is a molecule of matter, yet may it kindle the world; vast is the mighty ocean, but drops have made it vast. Despise not thou small things, either for evil or for good; for a look may work thy ruin, or a word create thy wealth.

Hate furroweth the brow; and a man may frown till he hateth.

Love with life is heaven; and life, unloving, hell.