We have lost morals, justice, honor, piety and faith, and that sense of shame which, once lost, can never be restored.
The wretched hasten to hear of their own miseries.
Fire tries gold, misery tries brave men.
Money has yet to make anyone rich.
There is this blessing, that while life has but one entrance, it has exits innumerable, and as I choose the house in which I live, the ship in which I will sail, so will I choose the time and manner of my death.
There is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the fingers.
We are as answerable for what we give as for what we receive; nay, the misplacing of a benefit is worse than the not receiving of it; for the one is another person's fault, but the other is mine.
The law of the pleasure in having done anything for another is, that the one almost immediately forgets having given, and the other remembers eternally having received.
There is as much greatness of mind in the owning of a good turn as in the doing of it; and we must no more force a requital out of season than be wanting in it.
Haste trips up its own heels, fetters and stops itself.
It is by the benefit of letters that absent friends are in a manner brought together.
You find in some a sort of graceless modesty, that makes them ashamed to requite an obligation.
All I desire is, that my poverty may not be a burden to myself, or make me so to others; and that is the best state of fortune that is neither directly necessitous nor far from it. A mediocrity of fortune, with gentleness of mind, will preserve us from fear or envy; which is a desirable condition; for no man wants power to do mischief.
That comes too late that comes for the asking.
To give and to lose is nothing; but to lose and to give still is the part of a great mind.
Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all. It sets the slave at liberty, carries the banished man home, and places all mortals on the same level, insomuch that life itself were a punishment without it.
The miserable are sacred.
Trifling trouble find utterance; deeply felt pangs are silent.
The most imperious masters over their own servants are at the same time the most abject slaves to the servants of others.
All that lies betwixt the cradle and the grave is uncertain.
No man is born wise; but wisdom and virtue require a tutor; though we can easily learn to be vicious without a master.
Death falls heavily on that man who, known too well to others, dies in ignorance of himself.
Light is that grief which counsel can allay.
So enjoy the pleasures of the hour as not to spoil those that are to follow.
Those griefs burn most which gall in secret.
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