There is no easy path leading out of life, and few are the easy ones that lie within it.

The happy never say, and never hear said, farewell.

In the morn of life we are alert, we are heated in its noon, and only in its decline do we repose.

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.

States, like men, have their growth, their manhood, their decrepitude, their decay.

A mercantile democracy may govern long and widely; a mercantile aristocracy cannot stand.

No thoroughly occupied person was ever found really miserable.