Neither in tailoring nor in legislating does man proceed by mere accident.

The whole past is the procession of the present.

A background of wrath, which can be stirred up to the murderous infernal pitch, does lie in every man.

The lightning spark of thought generated in the solitary mind awakens its likeness in another mind.

Custom doth make dotards of us all.

The world is a thing that a man must learn to despise, and even to neglect, before he can learn to reverence it, and work in it and for it.

How indestructibly the good grows, and propagates itself, even among the weedy entanglements of evil.