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The question of common sense is always, "What is it good for?" A question which would abolish the rose and be answered triumphantly by the cabbage.
The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions
No man is born into the world, whose work Is not born with him; there is always work, And tools to work withal, for those who will: And blessed are the horny hands of toil!
May is a pious fraud of the almanac.
Reputation is in itself only a farthing candle, of a wavering and uncertain flame, and easily blown out, but it is the light by which the world looks for and finds merit.
Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty.
Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.
In creating, the only hard thing is to begin: a grass blade's no easier to make than an oak.
There is no work of genius which has not been the delight of mankind, no word of genius to which the human heart and soul have not sooner or later responded.
