Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us worthy evidence of the fact.
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
Men can do nothing without the make-believe of a beginning. Even Science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start with a make-believe unit, and must fix on a point in the stars' unceasing journey when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time is Nought. His less accurate grandmother Poetry has always been understood to start in the middle; but on reflection it appears that her proceeding is not very different from his; since Science, too, reckons backward as well as forward, divides his unit into billions, and with his clock-finger at Nought really sets off _in medias res_. No retrospect will take us to the true beginning; and whether our prologue be in heaven or on earth, it is but a fraction of that all-presupposing fact with which our story sets out.
Keep true, never be ashamed of doing right; decide on what you think is right and stick to it.
Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking.
Can any man or woman choose duties? No more that they can choose their birthplace, or their father or mother.
We are all apt to believe what the world believes about us.
Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.
The important work of moving the world forward does not wait to be done by perfect men.
There's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots.