Society is a masked ball, where every one hides his real character, and reveals it by hiding.
Every man is entitled to be valued by his best moment.
Do your thing, and I shall know you.
The Italians are fond of red clothes, peacock plumes, and embroidery; and I remember one rainy morning in the city of Palermo, the street was ablaze with scarlet umbrellas.
The street is full of humiliations to the proud.
If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor, though he build his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door.