In relating our misfortunes, we often feel them lightened.
Death was to be my glory, but destiny has refused it.
Time is a great manager: it arranges things well.
Ambition becomes displeasing when it is once satiated; there is a reaction; and as our spirit, till our last sigh, is always aiming toward some object, it falls back on itself, having nothing else on which to rest; and having reached the summit, it longs to descend.
The greater the effort, the greater the glory.
I would not like a king who could obey.