The Authors Of Great Evils Know Best

Do Not Speak Of Your Happiness To One Less Fortunate Than Yourself.

When A Man's Eyes Are Sore His Friends Do Not Let Him Finger Them, However Much He Wishes To, Nor Do They Themselves Touch The Inflammation: But A Man Sunk In Grief Suffers Every Chance Comer To Stir And Augment His Affliction Like A Running Sore; And By Reason Of The Fingering And Consequent Irritation It Hardens Into A Serious And Intractable Evil.

The Measure Of A Man Is The Way He Bears Up Under Misfortune.

Let Us Not Wonder If Something Happens Which Never Was Before, Or If Something Doth Not Appear Among Us With Which The Ancients Were Acquainted.

Fortune Had Favoured Me In This War That I Feared, The Rather, That Some Tempest Would Follow So Favourable A Gale.