Indolence Is The Devil's Cushion.

Language Is The Dress Of Thought; Every Time You Talk Your Mind Is On Parade.

That All Who Are Happy Are Equally Happy Is Not True. A Peasant And A Philosopher May Be Equally Satisfied, But Not Equally Happy. A Small Drinking Glass And A Large One May Be Equally Full, But The Large One Holds More Than The Small.

The Fiction Of Happiness Is Propagated By Every Tongue And Confirmed By Every Look Till At Last All Profess The Joy Which They Do Not Feel And Consent To Yield To The General Delusion.

The Necessities Of Our Condition Require A Thousand Offices Of Tenderness, Which Mere Regard For The Species Will Never Dictate.

Let Him Go Abroad To A Distant Country; Let Him Go To Some Place Where He Is Not Known. Don't Let Him Go To The Devil, Where He Is Known.