Yet is beauty the pleasing trickery that cheateth half the world.
Many a beggar at the crossway, or gray-haired shepherd on the plain, hath more of the end of all wealth than hundreds who multiply the means.
Error is a hardy plant; it flourishes in every soil.
Hate furroweth the brow; and a man may frown till he hateth.
A spark is a little thing, yet it may kindle the world.
The pen has shaken nations.