The Greater Part Of All The Mischief

Those Who Hope For No Other Life Are Dead Even For This.

Conscience Is The Virtue Of The Observers Not The Agents Of Action

What I Possess, Seems Far Away To Me, And What Is Gone Becomes Reality.

Would You Require A Wretched Being, Whose Life Is Slowly Wasting Under A Lingering Disease, To Despatch Himself At Once By The Stroke Of A Dagger? Does Not The Very Disorder Which Consumes His Strength Deprive Him Of The Courage To Effect His Deliverance?

You Acquire A Language Most Readily In The Country Where It Is Spoken; You Study Mineralogy Best Among Miners; And So With Everything Else.