'Tis the maddest trick a man can ever play in his whole life, to let his breath sneak out of his body without any more ado, and without so much as a rap o'er the pate, or a kick of the guts; to go out like the snuff of a farthing candle, and die merely of the mulligrubs, or the sullens.

Sorrow was made for man, not for beasts; yet if men encourage melancholy too much, they become no better than beasts.

God who sends the wound sends the medicine.

But do not give it to a lawyer's clerk to write, for they use a legal hand that Satan himself will not understand.

Let us forget and forgive injuries.

Experience is the universal mother of sciences.

The pen is the tongue of the soul; as are the thoughts engendered there, so will be the things written.