“Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console.”
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There is this difference between happiness and wisdom: he that thinks himself the happiest man, really is so but he that thinks himself the wisest, is generally the greatest fool.
The excess of our youth are checks written against our age and they are payable with interest thirty years later.
Doubt is the vestibule through which all must pass before they can enter into the temple of wisdom.
Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.
