Are not half our lives spent in reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences of which we were wholly ignorant at the time?
Madman! Look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.
So, when on one side you hoist in Locke's head, you go over that way; but now, on the other side, hoist in Kant's and you come back again; but in very poor plight. Thus, some minds for ever keep trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw all these thunder-heads overboard, and then you will float light and right.
For God's sake, be economical with your lamps and candles! not a gallon you burn, but at least one drop of man's blood was spilled for it.
To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain.
But the might-have-been is but boggy ground to build upon.
My body is but the lees of my better being.
But as in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God - so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land!
Aye, aye! and I'll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition's flames before I give him up.
A good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a good thing; the more's the pity. So, if any one man, in his own proper person, afford stuff for a good joke to anybody, let him not be backward, but let him cheerfully allow himself to spend and be spent in that way. And the man that has anything bountifully laughable about him, be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.
But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.
The Past is the textbook of tyrants; the Future is the Bible of the Free.
I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best.
Thou wine art the friend of the friendless, though a foe to all.
Thus it often is, that the constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of the more generous.
Struck dead by an angel of God! Yet the angel must hang!
The drama's done. Why then here does any one step forth? - Because one did survive the wreck.
In time of peril, like the needle to the loadstone, obedience, irrespective of rank, generally flies to him who is best fitted to command.
It is-or seems to be-a wise sort of thing, to realise that all that happens to a man in this life is only by way of joke, especially his misfortunes, if he have them. And it is also worth bearing in mind, that the joke is passed round pretty liberally & impartially, so that not very many are entitled to fancy that they in particular are getting the worst of it.
Implacable I, the implacable Sea; Implacable most when most I smile serene- Pleased, not appeased, by myriad wrecks in me.
Man, in the ideal, is so noble and so sparkling, such a grand and glowing creature, that over any ignominious blemish in him all his fellows should run to throw their costliest robes.
Nothing may help or heal While Amor incensed remembers wrong.
Amity itself can only be maintained by reciprocal respect, and true friends are punctilious equals.
The terrors of truth and dart of death To faith alike are vain.
To treat of human actions is to deal wholly with second causes.
Everyone knows that in most people's estimation, to do anything cooly is to do it genteelly.
Toil is man's allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that's more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.
Give me a condor's quill! Give me Vesuvius crater for an inkstand!
Stripped of the cunning artifices of the tailor, and standing forth in the garb of Eden - what a sorry set of round-shouldered, spindle-shanked, crane-necked varlets would civilized men appear!
Many sensible things banished from high life find an asylum among the mob.
See how elastic our prejudices grow when once love comes to bend them.
Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!
We cannibals must help these Christians.
Doesn't the devil live forever; who ever heard that the devil was dead? Did you ever see any person wearing mourning for the devil?
Thou saw'st the locked lovers when leaping from their flaming ship; heart to heart they sank beneath the exulting wave; true to each other, when heaven seemed false to them.
Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth.
Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head.
Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins?
A true military officer is in one particular like a true monk. Not with more self-abnegation will the latter keep his vows of monastic obedience than the former his vows of allegiance to martial duty.