Somehow, our sense of justice never turns in its sleep till long after the sense of injustice in others has been thoroughly aroused.

The critic who justly admires all kinds of things simultaneously cannot love any one of them.

Some people are born to lift heavy weights, some are born to juggle golden balls.

Of all the objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the most hateful.

A man's work is rather the needful supplement to himself than the outcome of it.

Anything that is worth doing has been done frequently. Things hitherto undone should be given, I suspect, a wide berth.

History does not repeat itself. The historians repeat one another.