Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.

The heart of silver falls ever into the hands of brass. The sensitive herb is eaten as grass by the swine.

The art of pleasing is more based on the art of seeming pleased than people think of, and she disarmed the prejudices of her enemies by the unaffected delight she appeared to take in themselves.

What is failure except feebleness? And what is it to miss one's mark except to aim widely and weakly?

Fame has only the span of the day, they say. But to live in the hearts of people-that is worth something.

For Pastrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary; their store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister; their only friend and comforter. ... Pastrasche was their dog.

Fancy tortures more people than does reality