What I value most next to eternity is time.
Loving souls are like paupers. They live on what is given them.
God Himself allows certain faults; and often we say, "I have deserved to err; I have deserved to be ignorant.
There are questions so indiscreet, that they deserve neither truth nor falsehood in reply.
If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
We are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked apples the next.