Most men remember obligations, but not often to be grateful; the proud are made sour by the remembrance and the vain silent.

Ambition is frequently the only refuge which life has left to the denied or mortified affections. We chide at the grasping eye, the daring wing, the soul that seems to thirst for sovereignty only, and know not that the flight of this ambitious bird has been from a bosom or home that is filled with ashes.

Not in sorrow freely is never to open the bosom to the sweets of the sunshine.

The true law of the race is progress and development. Whenever civilization pauses in the march of conquest, it is overthrown by the barbarian.

There is a native baseness in the ambition which seeks beyond its desert, that never shows more conspicuously than when, no matter how, it temporarily gains its object.

Tears are the natural penalties of pleasure. It is a law that we should pay for all that we enjoy.

Most men remember obligations, but not often to be grateful; the proud are made sour by the remembrance and the vain silent.