Religion converts despair, which destroys, into resignation, which submits.
The vices of the rich and great are mistaken for error; and those of the poor and lowly, for crimes.
Listeners beware, for ye are doomed never to hear good of yourselves.
Friends are the thermometer by which we may judge the temperature of our fortunes.
Sure there's different roads from this to Dungarvan* - some thinks one road pleasanter, and some think another; wouldn't it be mighty foolish to quarrel for this? - and sure isn't it twice worse to thry to interfere with people for choosing the road they like best to heaven?
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 . . .
Tears may be dried up, but the heart - never.
It is a sad thing to look at happiness only through another's eyes.
Flattery, if judiciously administered, is always acceptable.
Tears fell from my eyes - yes, weak and foolish as it now appears to me, I wept for my departed youth; and for that beauty of which the faithful mirror too plainly assured me, no remnant existed.
Society seldom forgives those who have discovered the emptiness of its pleasures, and who can live independent of it and them.
Love matches are made by people who are content, for a month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar.
Love and enthusiasm are always ridiculous, when not reciprocated by their objects.
He who fears not, is to be feared.
A man should never boast of his courage, nor a woman of her virtue, lest their doing so should be the cause of calling their possession of them into question.
We are more prone to murmur at the punishment of our faults than to lament them.
Men who would persecute others for religious opinions, prove the errors of their own.
A poor man defended himself when charged with stealing food to appease the cravings of hunger, saying, the cries of the stomach silenced those of the conscience.
A beautiful woman without fixed principles may be likened to those fair but rootless flowers which float in streams, driven by every breeze.
Many minds that have withstood the most severe trials have been broken down by a succession of ignoble cares.
Thoughts come maimed and plucked of plumage from the lips, which, from the pea, in the silence of your own leisure and study, would be born with far more beauty.
Superstition is but the fear of belief.
He who would remain honest ought to keep away want.
Heaven sends us misfortunes as a moral tonic.
Mountains appear more lofty the nearer they are approached, but great men resemble them not in this particular.
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