Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.
I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
Yet through all, we know this tangled skein is in the hands of One, Who sees the end from the beginning: He shall unravel all.
My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.
In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.
My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
In my garden I spend my days; in my library I spend my nights.
The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.
The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
Death, which we are accustomed to consider an evil, really acts for us the friendliest part, and takes away the commonplace of existence.
Not on the stage alone, in the world also, a man's real character comes out best in his asides.
There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
Your death and my death are mainly of importance to ourselves. The black plumes will be stripped off our hearses within the hour; tears will dry, hurt hearts close again, our graves grow level with the church-yard, and although we are away, the world wags on. It does not miss us; and those who are near us, when the first strangeness of vacancy wears off, will not miss us much either.
Pleasure has no logic; it never treads in its own footsteps.
The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
Men praise poverty, as the African worships Mumbo Jumbo--from terror of the malign power, and a desire to propitiate at.
To bring the best human qualities to anything like perfection, to fill them with the sweet juices of courtesy and charity, prosperity, or, at all events, a moderate amount of it, is required,--just as sunshine is needed for the ripening of peaches and apricots.
To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!
To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
Winter does not work only on a broad scale; he is careful in trifles.
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