The love of our own language, what is it, in fact, but the love of our country expressing itself in one particular direction?

Sin may be clasped so close, we cannot see its face.

The present is only intelligible in the light of the past.

The love of our own language, what is it, in fact, but the love of our country expressing itself in one particular direction?

Best friends might loathe us, if what things perverse we know of our own selves they also knew.

The sin of pride is the sin of sins; in which all subsequent sins are included, as in their germ; they are but the unfolding of this one.

Speak but little and well, if you would be esteemed as a man of merit.