The saints are the sinners who keep on trying.
If your morals make you dreary, depend upon it they are wrong.
There is an idea abroad among moral people that they should make their neighbors good. One person I have to make good: Myself. But my duty to my neighbor is much more nearly expressed by saying that I have to make him happy if I may.
To forget oneself is to be happy.
Give us courage and gaiety and the quient mind . . .
Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a poor substitute for life.