Wit Is The God Of Moments, But

Hatred Is So Lasting And Stubborn, That Reconciliation On A Sickbed Certainly Forebodes Death.

No Vice Exists Which Does Not Pretend To Be More Or Less Like Some Virtue, And Which Does Not Take Advantage Of This Assumed Resemblance.

A Tall, Well-built Man With A Deep Chest And Broad Shoulders Can Carry A Heavy Burden With Ease And Unconcern, And Still Keep One Hand Free; A Dwarf Would Be Crushed By Half That Weight. Thus Lofty Posts Make Great Men Greater Still, And Small Men Much Smaller.

A Long Disease Seems To Be A Halting Place Between Life And Death, That Death Itself May Be A Comfort To Those Who Die And To Those Who Are Left Behind.

The Wise Person Often Shuns Society For Fear Of Being Bored.