Our weaknesses are the indigenous produce of our characters; but our strength is the forced fruit.
We have a reading, a talking, and a writing public. When shall we have a thinking?
People are always willing to follow advice when it accords with their own wishes.
Genius is the gold in the mine, talent is the miner who works and brings it out.
Satire, like conscience, reminds us of what we often wish to forget.
... I never will allow myself to form an ideal of any person I desire to see, for disappointment never fails to ensue.
There are no persons capable of stooping so low as those who desire to rise in the world.
Wit is the lightning of the mind, reason the sunshine, and reflection the moonlight ...
When the sun shines on you, you see your friends. It requires sunshine to be seen by them to advantage!
One of the most marked characteristics of our day is a reckless neglect of principles, and a rigid adherence to their semblance.
We are more prone to murmur at the punishment of our faults than to lament them.
Praise is the only gift for which people are really grateful.
A German writer observes: "The noblest characters only show themselves in their real light. All others act comedy with their fellow-men even unto the grave.
Mountains appear more lofty the nearer they are approached, but great men resemble them not in this particular.
Mediocrity is beneath a brave soul.
Women excel more in literary judgment than in literary production,--they are better critics than authors.
Haste is always ungraceful.
Flowers are the bright remembrances of youth; they waft us back, with their bland odorous breath, the joyous hours that only young life knows, ere we have learnt that this fair earth hides graves.
Spring is the season of hope, and autumn is that of memory.
Imagination, which is the Eldorado of the poet and of the novel-writer, often proves the most pernicious gift to the individuals who compose the talkers instead of the writers in society.
Modern historians are all would-be philosophers; who, instead of relating facts as they occurred, give us their version, or rather perversions of them, always colored by their political prejudices, or distorted to establish some theory . . .
People seem to lose all respect for the past; events succeed each other with such velocity that the most remarkable one of a few years gone by, is no more remembered than if centuries had closed over it.
Wit lives in the present, but genius survives the future.
Flattery, if judiciously administered, is always acceptable.
The most certain mode of making people content with us is to make them content with themselves.
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