We Pick Our Own Sorrows Out Of

It Is Much Safer To Reconcile An Enemy Than To Conquer Him; Victory May Deprive Him Of His Poison, But Reconciliation Of His Will.

Surely, If We Considered Detraction To Be Bred Of Envy, Nested Only In Deficient Minds, We Should Find That The Applauding Of Virtue Would Win Us Far More Honor Than The Seeking Slyly To Disparage It. That Would Show We Loved What We Commended, While This Tells The World We Grudge At What We Want In Ourselves.

I Love The Man That Is Modestly Valiant; That Stirs Not Till He Most Needs, And Then To Purpose. A Continued Patience I Commend Not.

God Has Made No One Absolute. The Rich Depend On The Poor, As Well As The Poor On The Rich. The World Is But A Magnificent Building; All The Stones Are Gradually Cemented Together. No One Subsists By Himself.

Irresolution Is A Worse Vice Than Rashness. He That Shoots Best May Sometimes Miss The Mark; But He That Shoots Not At All Can Never Hit It. Irresolution Loosens All The Joints Of A State; Like An Ague, It Shakes Not This Nor That Limb, But All The Body Is At Once In A Fit. The Irresolute Man Is Lifted From One Place To Another; So Hatcheth Nothing, But Addles All His Actions.