It is remarkable how virtuous and generously disposed every one is at a play.
Do not keep on with a mockery of friendship after the substance is gone - but part, while you can part friends. Bury the carcass of friendship: it is not worth embalming.
The imagination is of so delicate a texture that even words wound it.
Good temper is one of the great preservers of the features.
Our repugnance to death increases in proportion to our consciousness of having lived in vain.
Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them?