The souls of emperors and cobblers are cast in the same mould

We feel a kind of bittersweet pricking of malicious delight in contemplating the misfortunes of others.

God sends the cold according to the coat.

Pride dwells in the thought; the tongue can have but a very little share in it.

It is no hard matter to get children; but after they are born, then begins the trouble, solicitude, and care rightly to train, principle, and bring them up.

We perceive no charms that are not sharpened, puffed out, and inflated by artifice. Those which glide along naturally and simply easily escape a sight so gross as ours.

Our wisdom and deliberation for the most part follow the lead of chance.