Circumstances form the character; but, like petrifying matters, they harden while they form.
Children are what the mothers are.
The vain poet is of the opinion that nothing of his can be too much: he sends to you basketful after basketful of juiceless fruit, covered with scentless flowers.
Everything that looks to the future elevates human nature.
Falsehood is for a season.
Many laws as certainly make men bad, as bad men make many laws.