They must needs go whom the Devil drives.
Whom God loves, his house is sweet to him.
Thou art a cat, and a rat, and a coward.
The pen is the language of the soul; as the concepts that in it are generated, such will be its writings.
Let everyone turn himself around, and look at home, and he will find enough to do.
Sorrow was made for man, not for beasts; yet if men encourage melancholy too much, they become no better than beasts.