It is generally agreed, that few men are made better by affluence or exaltation.

The only end of writing is to enable readers better to enjoy life or better to endure it.

Every man has some favorite topic of conversation, on which, by a feigned seriousness of attention, he may be drawn to expatiate without end.

Every man is prompted by the love of himself to imagine that he possesses some qualities superior, either in kind or degree, to those which he sees allotted to the rest of the world.

Being reproached for giving to an unworthy person, Aristotle said, I did not give it to the man, but to humanity.

Almost every man wastes part of his life attempting to display qualities which he does not possess.

Poetry cannot be translation