Anger, though concealed, is betrayed by the countenance. ?That anger is not warrantable which hath seen two suns.
The physician cannot prescribe by letter, he must feel the pulse.
Everything hangs on one's thinking.
While the fates permit, live happily; life speeds on with hurried step, and with winged days the wheel of the headlong year is turned.
Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.
Constant exposure to dangers will breed contempt for them.