Resignation is the courage of Christian sorrow.—Dr. Vinet.

Responsibility.—Responsibility educates.—Wendell Phillips.

Restlessness.—The mind is found most acute and most uneasy in the morning. Uneasiness is, indeed, a species of sagacity—a passive sagacity. Fools are never uneasy.—Goethe.

Always driven towards new shores, or carried hence without hope of return, shall we never, on the ocean of age cast anchor for even a day?—Lamartine.

Retribution.—Nemesis is lame, but she is of colossal stature, like the gods; and sometimes, while her sword is not yet unsheathed, she stretches out her huge left arm and grasps her victim. The mighty hand is invisible, but the victim totters under the dire clutch.—George Eliot.

"One soweth and another reapeth" is a verity that applies to evil as well as good.—George Eliot.

Revenge.—Revenge at first, though sweet, bitter ere long back on itself recoils.—Milton.

Revenge is a debt, in the paying of which the greatest knave is honest and sincere, and, so far as he is able, punctual.—Colton.

There are some professed Christians who would gladly burn their enemies, but yet who forgive them merely because it is heaping coals of fire on their heads.—F. A. Durivage.

Revery.—In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.—Wordsworth.

Revolution.—The working of revolutions, therefore, misleads me no more; it is as necessary to our race as its waves to the stream, that it may not be a stagnant marsh. Ever renewed in its forms, the genius of humanity blossoms.—Herder.

Great revolutions are the work rather of principles than of bayonets, and are achieved first in the moral, and afterwards in the material sphere.—Mazzini.

All experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.—Jefferson.

Nothing has ever remained of any revolution hut what was ripe in the conscience of the masses.—Ledru Rollin.

Revolution is the larva of civilization.—Victor Hugo.

We deplore the outrages which accompany revolutions. But the more violent the outrages, the more assured we feel that a revolution was necessary! The violence of these outrages will always lie proportioned to the ferocity and ignorance of the people: and the ferocity and ignorance of the people will be proportioned to the oppression and degradation under which they have been accustomed to live.—Macaulay.

Let them call it mischief; when it's past and prospered, 't will be virtue.—Ben Jonson.

Rhetoric.—In composition, it is the art of putting ideas together in graceful and accurate prose; in speaking, it is the art of delivering ideas with propriety, elegance, and force; or, in other words, it is the science of oratory.—Locke.

Rhetoric without logic is like a tree with leaves and blossoms, but no root; yet more are taken with rhetoric than logic, because they are caught with a free expression, when they understand not reason.—Selden.

The florid, elevated, and figurative way is for the passions; for love and hatred, fear and anger, are begotten in the soul by showing their objects out of their true proportion, either greater than the life, or less; but instruction is to be given by showing them what they naturally are. A man is to cheated into passion, but reasoned into truth.—Dryden.

All the art of rhetoric, besides order and clearness, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move the passions, and thereby mislead the judgment.—Locke.

Rhetoric is very good, or stark naught; there's no medium in rhetoric.—Selden.

Riches.—The shortest road to riches lies through contempt of riches.—Seneca.

One cause, which is not always observed, of the insufficiency of riches, is that they very seldom make their owner rich.—Johnson.

Of all the riches that we hug, of all the pleasures we enjoy, we can carry no more out of this world than out of a dream.—Bonnell.

If the search for riches were sure to be successful, though I should become a groom with a whip in my hand to get them, I will do so. As the search may not be successful, I will follow after that which I love.—Confucius.

I have a rich neighbor that is always so busy that he has no leisure to laugh; the whole business of his life is to get money, more money, that he may still get more. He is still drudging, saying what Solomon says, "The diligent hand maketh rich." And it is true, indeed; but he considers not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy; for it was wisely said by a man of great observation that "there be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side of them."—Izaak Walton.

Riches, though they may reward virtues, yet they cannot cause them; he is much more noble who deserves a benefit, than he who bestows one.—Owen Feltham.

In these times gain is not only a matter of greed, but of ambition.—Joubert.

Ridicule.—Some men are, in regard to ridicule, like tin-roofed buildings in regard to hail: all that hits them bounds rattling off, not a stone goes through.—Beecher.

Rogues.—Rogues are always found out in some way. Whoever is a wolf will act as a wolf; that is the most certain of all things.—La Fontaine.

Many a man would have turned rogue if he knew how.—Hazlitt.

Ruin.—To be ruined your own way is some comfort. When so many people would ruin us, it is a triumph over the villany of the world to be ruined after one's own pattern.—Douglas Jerrold.

S.

Sacrifice.—You cannot win without sacrifice.—Charles Buxton.

What you most repent of is a lasting sacrifice made under an impulse of good-nature. The good-nature goes, the sacrifice sticks.—Charles Buxton.

Sadness.—Take my word for it, the saddest thing under the sky is a soul incapable of sadness.—Countess de Gasparin.

Our sadness is not sad, but our cheap joys.—Thoreau.

Salary.—Other rules vary; this is the only one you will find without exception: That in this world the salary or reward is always in the inverse ratio of the duties performed.—Sydney Smith.

Sarcasm.—A true sarcasm is like a sword-stick—it appears, at first sight, to be much more innocent than it really is, till, all of a sudden, there leaps something out of it—sharp and deadly and incisive—which makes you tremble and recoil.—Sydney Smith.

Satire.—To lash the vices of a guilty age.—Churchill.

Thou shining supplement of public laws!—Young.

By satire kept in awe, shrink from ridicule, though not from law.—Byron.

When dunces are satiric I take it for a panegyric.—Swift.

Scandal.—Believe that story false that ought not to be true.—Sheridan.

Scandal has something so piquant, it is a sort of cayenne to the mind.—Byron.

School.—More is learned in a public than in a private school from emulation: there is the collision of mind with mind, or the radiation of many minds pointing to one centre—Johnson.

Let the soldier be abroad if he will; he can do nothing in this age. There is another personage abroad,—a person less imposing,—in the eyes of some, perhaps, insignificant. The schoolmaster is abroad; and I trust to him, armed with his primer, against the soldier in full military array.—Brougham.

The whining school-boy, with his satchel, and shining morning face, creeping like a snail, unwillingly to school.—Shakespeare.

Science.—They may say what they like; everything is organized matter. The tree is the first link of the chain, man is the last. Men are young, the earth is old. Vegetable and animal chemistry are still in their infancy. Electricity, galvanism,—what discoveries in a few years!—Napoleon.

Human science is uncertain guess.—Prior.

Twin-sister of natural and revealed religion, and of heavenly birth, science will never belie her celestial origin, nor cease to sympathize with all that emanates from the same pure home. Human ignorance and prejudice may for a time seem to have divorced what God has joined together; but human ignorance and prejudice shall at length pass away, and then science and religion shall be seen blending their parti-colored rays into one beautiful bow of light, linking heaven to earth and earth to heaven.—Prof. Hitchcock.

Science is a first rate piece of furniture for a man's upper chamber, if he has common sense on the ground-floor. But if a man hasn't got plenty of good common sense, the more science he has the worse for his patient.—Holmes.

Scriptures.—The majesty of Scripture strikes me with admiration, as the purity of the Gospel has its influence on my heart. Peruse the works of our philosophers; with all their pomp of diction, how mean, how contemptible, are they, compared with the Scriptures! Is it possible that a book at once so simple and sublime should be merely the work of man? The Jewish authors were incapable of the diction, and strangers to the morality contained in the Gospel, the marks of whose truths are so striking and inimitable that the inventor would be a more astonishing character than the hero.—Rousseau.

Secrecy.—Thou hast betrayed thy secret as a bird betrays her nest, by striving to conceal it.—Longfellow.

Never confide your secrets to paper: it is like throwing a stone in the air, and if you know who throws the stone, you do not know where it may fall.—Calderon.

People addicted to secrecy are so without knowing why; they are not so for cause, but for secrecy's sake.—Hazlitt.

Sect.—The effective strength of sects is not to be ascertained merely by counting heads.—Macaulay.

All sects are different, because they come from men; morality is everywhere the same, because it comes from God.—Voltaire.

Fierce sectarianism breeds fierce latitudinarianism.—De Quincey.

Self-Abnegation.—'Tis much the doctrine of the times that men should not please themselves, but deny themselves everything they take delight in; not look upon beauty, wear no good clothes, eat no good meat, etc., which seems the greatest accusation that can be upon the Maker of all good things. If they are not to be used why did God make them?—Selden.

Self-abnegation, that rare virtue that good men preach and good women practice.—Holmes.

Self-Examination.—We neither know nor judge ourselves,—others may judge, but cannot know us,—God alone judges, and knows too.—Wilkie Collins.

It belongs to every large nature, when it is not under the immediate power of some strong unquestioning emotion, to suspect itself, and doubt the truth of its own impressions, conscious of possibilities beyond its own horizon.—George Eliot.

There are two persons in the world we never see as they are,—one's self and one's other self.—Arsene Houssaye.

Selfishness.—Our infinite obligations to God do not fill our hearts half as much as a petty uneasiness of our own; nor his infinite perfections as much as our smallest wants.—Hannah More.

It is astonishing how well men wear when they think of no one but themselves.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Our selfishness is so robust and many-clutching that, well encouraged, it easily devours all sustenance away from our poor little scruples.—George Eliot.

There is an ill-breeding to which, whatever our rank and nature, we are almost equally sensitive,—the ill-breeding that comes from want of consideration for others.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Self-Love.—That household god, a man's own self.—Flavel.

The greatest of all flatterers is self-love.—Rochefoucauld.

Self-love exaggerates both our faults and our virtues.—Goethe.

Whatever discoveries we may have made in the regions of self-love, there still remain many unknown lands.—Rochefoucauld.

Selfishness, if but reasonably tempered with wisdom, is not such an evil trait.—Ruffini.

A prudent consideration for Number One.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Oh, the incomparable contrivance of Nature who has ordered all things in so even a method that wherever she has been less bountiful in her gifts, there she makes it up with a larger dose of self-love, which supplies the former deficits and makes all even.—Erasmus.

The most inhibited sin in the canon.—Shakespeare.

Ofttimes nothing profits more than self-esteem, grounded on just and right.—Milton.

Whose thoughts are centered on thyself alone.—Dryden.

Self-reliance.—The spirit of self-help is the root of all genuine growth in the individual; and, exhibited in the lives of many, it constitutes the true source of national vigor and strength. Help from without is often enfeebling in its effects, but help from within invariably invigorates. Whatever is done for men or classes, to a certain extent takes away the stimulus and necessity of doing for themselves; and where men are subjected to over-guidance and over-government, the inevitable tendency is to render them comparatively helpless.—Samuel Smiles.

Doubt whom you will, but never yourself.—Bovee.

A person under the firm persuasion that he can command resources virtually has them.—Livy.

The supreme fall of falls is this, the first doubt of one's self.—Countess de Gasparin.

It's right to trust in God; but if you don't stand to your halliards, your craft'll miss stays, and your faith'll be blown out of the bolt-ropes in the turn of a marlinspike.—George MacDonald.

The best lightning-rod for your protection is your own spine.—Emerson.

Sensibility.—The wild-flower wreath of feeling, the sunbeam of the heart.—Halleck.

Sensibility is the power of woman.—Lavater.

Feeling loves a subdued light.—Madame Swetchine.

Sensitiveness.—Solomon's Proverbs, I think, have omitted to say, that as a sore palate findeth grit, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes.—George Eliot.

That chastity of honor which felt a stain like a wound.—Burke.

Sentiment.—Cure the drunkard, heal the insane, mollify the homicide, civilize the Pawnee, but what lessons can be devised for the debaucher of sentiment?—Emerson.

Separation.—Indifferent souls never part. Impassioned souls part, and return to one another, because they can do no better.—Madame Swetchine.

Shakespeare.—There is only one writer in whom I find something that reminds me of the directness of style which is found in the Bible. It is Shakespeare.—Heinrich Heine.

Far from fearing, as an inferior artist would have done, the juxtaposition of the familiar and the divine, the wildest and most fantastic comedy with the loftiest and gravest tragedy, Shakespeare not only made such apparently discordant elements mutually heighten and complete the general effect which he contemplated, but in so doing teaches us that, in human life, the sublime and ridiculous are always side by side, and that the source of laughter is placed close by the fountain of tears.—T. B. Shaw.

Shakespeare is a great psychologist, and whatever can be known of the heart of man may be found in his plays.—Goethe.

In Shakespeare one sentence begets the next naturally; the meaning is all inwoven. He goes on kindling like a meteor through the dark atmosphere.—Coleridge.

No man is too busy to read Shakespeare.—Charles Buxton.

Shakespeare's personages live and move as if they had just come from the hand of God, with a life that, though manifold, is one, and, though complex, is harmonious.—Mazzini.

Sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child.—Milton.

And rival all but Shakespeare's name below.—Campbell.

Shakespeare is one of the best means of culture the world possesses. Whoever is at home in his pages is at home everywhere.—H. N. Hudson.

His imperial muse tosses the creation like a bauble from hand to hand to embody any capricious thought that is uppermost in her mind. The remotest spaces of nature are visited, and the farthest sundered things are brought together by a subtle spiritual connection.—Emerson.

I think most readers of Shakespeare sometimes find themselves thrown into exalted mental conditions like those produced by music.—O. W. Holmes.

Whatever other learning he wanted he was master of two books unknown to many profound readers, though books which the last conflagration can alone destroy. I mean the book of Nature and of Man.—Young.

If ever Shakespeare rants, it is not when his imagination is hurrying him along, but when he is hurrying his imagination along.—Macaulay.

It was said of Euripides, that every verse was a precept; and it may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence.—Johnson.

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.—Keats.

Shame.—Nature's hasty conscience.—Maria Edgeworth.

Mortifications are often more painful than real calamities.—Goldsmith.

Ship.—A prison with the chance of being drowned.—Johnson.

Cradle of the rude imperious surge.—Shakespeare.

Silence.—The main reason why silence is so efficacious an element of repute is, first, because of that magnification which proverbially belongs to the unknown; and, secondly, because silence provokes no man's envy, and wounds no man's self-love.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.—Shakespeare.

True gladness doth not always speak; joy bred and born but in the tongue is weak.—Ben Jonson.

I hear other men's imperfections, and conceal my own.—Zeno.

Silence in times of suffering is the best.—Dryden.

Silence! coeval with eternity.—Pope.

Silence is the sanctuary of prudence.—Balthasar Gracian.

The unspoken word never does harm.—Kossuth.

Silence is the understanding of fools and one of the virtues of the wise.—Bonnard.

Speech is often barren; but silence also does not necessarily brood over a full nest. Your still fowl, blinking at you without remark, may all the while be sitting on one addled nest-egg; and when it takes to cackling, will have nothing to announce but that addled delusion.—George Eliot.

Silence gives consent.—Goldsmith.

Silence is the safest response for all the contradiction that arises from impertinence, vulgarity, or envy.—Zimmerman.

Simplicity.—Simplicity is doubtless a fine thing, but it often appeals only to the simple. Art is the only passion of true artists. Palestrina's music resembles the music of Rossini, as the song of the sparrow is like the cavatina of the nightingale. Choose.—Madame de Girardin.

Simplicity is Nature's first step, and the last of Art.—P. J. Bailey.

The world could not exist if it were not simple. This ground has been tilled a thousand years, yet its powers remain ever the same; a little rain, a little sun, and each spring it grows green again.—Goethe.

The fairest lives, in my opinion, are those which regularly accommodate themselves to the common and human model, without miracle, without extravagance.—Montaigne.

There is a majesty in simplicity which is far above the quaintness of wit.—Pope.

Sin.—Original sin is in us like the beard: we are shaved to-day, and look clean, and have a smooth chin; to-morrow our beard has grown again, nor does it cease growing while we remain on earth. In like manner original sin cannot be extirpated from us; it springs up in us as long as we exist; Nevertheless, we are bound to resist it to our utmost strength, and to cut it down unceasingly.—Luther.

Sin, in fancy, mothers many an ugly fact.—Theodore Parker.

There is no immunity from the consequences of sin; punishment is swift and sure to one and all.—Hosea Ballou.

Every man has his devilish minutes.—Lavater.

Death from sin no power can separate.—Milton.

Our sins, like to our shadows, when our day is in its glory, scarce appeared. Towards our evening how great and monstrous they are!—Sir J. Suckling.

'Tis the will that makes the action good or ill.—Herrick.

Guilt, though it may attain temporal splendor, can never confer real happiness. The evident consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor.—Sir Walter Scott.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.—Shakespeare.

Sin is disease, deformity, and weakness.—Plato.

Sin and her shadow death.—Milton.

If ye do well, to your own behoof will ye do it; and if ye do evil, against yourselves will ye do it.—Koran.

It is the sin which we have not committed which seems the most monstrous.—Boileau.

There are sins of omission as well as those of commission.—Madame Deluzy.

Sincerity.—Sincerity is to speak as we think, to do as we pretend and profess, to perform and make good what we promise, and really to be what we would seem and appear to be.—Tillotson.

The whole faculties of man must be exerted in order to call forth noble energies; and he who is not earnestly sincere lives in but half his being, self-mutilated, self-paralyzed.—Coleridge.

Skepticism.—Skepticism is slow suicide.—Emerson.

Skill.—Nobody, however able, can gain the very highest success, except in one line. He may rise above others, but he will fall below himself.—Charles Buxton.

Whatever may be said about luck, it is skill that leads to fortune.—Walter Scott.

The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators.—Gibbon.

Slander.—Done to death by slanderous tongues.—Shakespeare.

Slugs crawl and crawl over our cabbages, like the world's slander over a good name. You may kill them, it is true, but there is the slime.—Douglas Jerrold.

Slander lives upon succession, forever housed where it gets possession.—Shakespeare.

When the absent are spoken of, some will speak gold of them, some silver, some iron, some lead, and some always speak dirt, for they have a natural attraction towards what is evil, and think it shows penetration in them. As a cat watching for mice does not look up though an elephant goes by, so are they so busy mousing for defects, that they let great excellences pass them unnoticed. I will not say it is not Christian to make beads of others' faults, and tell them over every day; I say it is infernal. If you want to know how the devil feels, you do know if you are such an one.—Beecher.

If parliament were to consider the sporting with reputation of as much importance as sporting on manors, and pass an act for the preservation of fame as well as game, there are many would thank them for the bill.—Sheridan.

Sleep.—When one asked Alexander how he could sleep so soundly and securely in the midst of danger, he told them that Parmenio watched. Oh, how securely may they sleep over whom He watches that never slumbers nor sleeps! "I will," said David, "lay me down and sleep, for thou, Lord, makest me to dwell in safety."—Venning.

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.—Shakespeare.

Sleep is no servant of the will; it has caprices of its own; when courted most, it lingers still; when most pursued, 'tis swiftly gone.—Bowring.

Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.—Bible.

Heaven trims our lamps while we sleep.—Alcott.

Night's sepulchre.—Byron.

Sleep is pain's easiest salve, and doth fulfill all offices of death, except to kill.—Donne.

Sleep, to the homeless thou art home; the friendless find in thee a friend.—Ebenezer Elliott.

The soul shares not the body's rest.—Maturin.

Our foster nurse of nature is repose.—Shakespeare.

Sloth.—Sloth, if it has prevented many crimes, has also smothered many virtues.—Colton.

Smile.—A woman has two smiles that an angel might envy—the smile that accepts a lover afore words are uttered, and the smile that lights on the first-born baby.—Haliburton.

Smiles are smiles only when the heart pulls the wire.—Winthrop.

Those happiest smiles that played on her ripe lips seemed not to know what guests were in her eyes, which parted thence as pearls from diamonds dropped.—Shakespeare.

The smile that was childlike and bland.—Bret Harte.

A soul only needs to see a smile in a white crape bonnet in order to enter the palace of dreams.—Victor Hugo.

Sneer.—The most insignificant people are the most apt to sneer at others. They are safe from reprisals, and have no hope of rising in their own esteem but by lowering their neighbors. The severest critics are always those who have either never attempted, or who have failed in original composition.—Hazlitt.

Society.—If you wish to appear agreeable in society, you must consent to be taught many things which you know already.—Lavater.

Formed of two mighty tribes, the bores and bored.—Byron.

Society undergoes continual changes; it is barbarous, it is civilized, it is Christianized, it is rich, it is scientific; but this change is not amelioration. For everything that is given something is taken. Society acquires new arts, and loses old instincts. The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use of his feet; he has a fine Geneva watch, but cannot tell the hour by the sun.—Emerson.

We take our colors, chameleon-like, from each other.—Chamfort.

Society is the union of men, and not men themselves; the citizen may perish, and yet man may remain.—Montesquieu.

There are four varieties in society; the lovers, the ambitious, observers, and fools. The fools are the happiest.—Taine.

Society is the offspring of leisure; and to acquire this forms the only rational motive for accumulating wealth, notwithstanding the cant that prevails on the subject of labor.—Tuckerman.

Intercourse is the soul of progress.—Charles Buxton.

One ought to love society if he wishes to enjoy solitude. It is a social nature that solitude works upon with the most various power. If one is misanthropic, and betakes himself to loneliness that he may get away from hateful things, solitude is a silent emptiness to him.—Zimmermann.

The most lucrative commerce has ever been that of hope, pleasure, and happiness, the merchandise of authors, priests, and kings.—Madame Roland.

The more I see of men the better I think of animals.—Tauler.

Soldier.—A soldier seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth.—Shakespeare.

Policy goes beyond strength, and contrivance before action; hence it is that direction is left to the commander, execution to the soldier, who is not to ask Why? but to do what he is commanded.—Xenophon.

Without a home must the soldier go, a changeful wanderer, and can warm himself at no home-lit hearth.—Schiller.

Soldiers looked at as they ought to be: they are to the world as poppies to corn fields.—Douglas Jerrold.

Solitude.—Solitude is dangerous to reason without being favorable to virtue. Pleasures of some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the corporal health, and those who resist gayety will be likely for the most part to fall a sacrifice to appetite, for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and seducing relief. Remember that the solitary person is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad. The mind stagnates for want of employment, and is extinguished, like a candle in foul air.—Johnson.

To be exempt from the passions with which others are tormented, is the only pleasing solitude.—Addison.

Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school of genius.—Gibbon.

Solitude has but one disadvantage; it is apt to give one too high an opinion of one's self. In the world we are sure to be often reminded of every known or supposed defect we may have.—Byron.

Through the wide world he only is alone who lives not for another.—Rogers.

Solitude is the worst of all companions when we seek comfort and oblivion.—Mery.

Sophistry.—The juggle of sophistry consists, for the most part, in using a word in one sense in all the premises, and in another sense in the conclusion.—Coleridge.

There is no error which hath not some appearance of probability resembling truth, which, when men who study to be singular find out, straining reason, they then publish to the world matter of contention and jangling.—Sir W. Raleigh.

Sorrow.—Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.—Shelley.

If hearty sorrow be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender it here; I do as truly suffer as e'er I did commit.—Shakespeare.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.—Gray.

The man who has learned to triumph over sorrow wears his miseries as though they were sacred fillets upon his brow, and nothing is so entirely admirable as a man bravely wretched.—Seneca.

Sorrow more beautiful than beauty's self.—Keats.

The violence of sorrow is not at the first to be striven withal; being, like a mighty beast, sooner tamed with following than overthrown by withstanding.—Sir P. Sidney.

Never morning wore to evening, but some heart did break.—Tennyson.

Sorrow being the natural and direct offspring of sin, that which first brought sin into the world must, by necessary consequence, bring in sorrow too.—South.

In extent sorrow is boundless. It pours from ten million sources, and floods the world. But its depth is small. It drowns few.—Charles Buxton.

It is the veiled angel of sorrow who plucks away one thing and another that bound us here in ease and security, and, in the vanishing of these dear objects, indicates the true home of our affections and our peace.—Chapin.

The mind profits by the wreck of every passion, and we may measure our road to wisdom by the sorrows we have undergone.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.—Moore.

Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours; makes the night morning, and the noontide night.—Shakespeare.

Sorrow is not evil, since it stimulates and purifies.—Mazzini.

Sorrows must die with the joys they outnumber.—Schiller.

He that hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peevishness, who loses all these pleasures, and chooses to sit down on his little handful of thorns. Such a person is fit to bear Nero company in his funeral sorrow for the loss of one of Poppea's hairs, or help to mourn for Lesbia's sparrow; and because he loves it, he deserves to starve in the midst of plenty, and to want comfort while he is encircled with blessings.—Jeremy Taylor.

Soul.—Had I no other proof of the immortality of the soul than the oppression of the just and the triumph of the wicked in this world, this alone would prevent my having the least doubt of it. So shocking a discord amidst a general harmony of things would make me naturally look for a cause; I should say to myself we do not cease to exist with this life; everything reassumes its order after death.—Rousseau.

What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.—Hood.

The human soul is hospitable, and will entertain conflicting sentiments and contradictory opinions with much impartiality.—George Eliot.

Our immortal souls, while righteous, are by God himself beautified with the title of his own image and similitude.—Sir W. Raleigh.

Specialty.—No one can exist in society without some specialty. Eighty years ago it was only necessary to be well dressed and amiable; to-day a man of this kind would be too much like the garcons at the cafes.—Taine.

Speech.—Sheridan once said of some speech, in his acute, sarcastic way, that "it contained a great deal both of what was new and what was true: but that unfortunately what was new was not true, and what was true was not new."—Hazlitt.

God has given us speech in order that we may say pleasant things to our friends, and tell bitter truths to our enemies.—Heinrich Heine.

The common fluency of speech in many men, and most women, is owing to a scarcity of matter and a scarcity of words; for whoever is a master of language and has a mind full of ideas, will be apt in speaking to hesitate upon the choice of both; whereas common speakers have only one set of ideas, and one set of words to clothe them in; and these are always ready at the mouth: so people come faster out of a church when it is almost empty, than when a crowd is at the door.—Dean Swift.

Speech is like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad, whereby the imagery doth appear in figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs.—Plutarch.

Never is the deep, strong voice of man, or the low, sweet voice of woman, finer than in the earnest but mellow tones of familiar speech, richer than the richest music, which are a delight while they are heard, which linger still upon the ear in softened echoes, and which, when they have ceased, come, long after, back to memory, like the murmurs of a distant hymn.—Henry Giles.

Half the sorrows of women would be averted if they could repress the speech they know to be useless—nay, the speech they have resolved not to utter.—George Eliot.

Sport.—Dwell not too long upon sports; for as they refresh a man that is weary, so they weary a man that is refreshed.—Fuller.

Spring.—Stately Spring! whose robe-folds are valleys, whose breast-bouquet is gardens, and whose blush is a vernal evening.—Richter.

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace.—Thomson.

The spring, the summer, the chiding autumn, angry winter, change their wonted liveries.—Shakespeare.

Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, hoar Winter's blooming child, delightful Spring.—Mrs. Barbauld.

Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, by the winds which tell of the violet's birth.—Mrs. Hemans.

Stars.—These preachers of beauty, which light the world with their admonishing smile.—Emerson.

I am as constant as the northern star; of whose true, fixed, and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.—Shakespeare.

The stars are so far,—far away!—L. E. Landon.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around his burning bosom buttoned it with stars.—Holmes.

The evening star, love's harbinger, appeared.—Milton.

Statesman.—The great difference between the real statesman and the pretender is, that the one sees into the future, while the other regards only the present; the one lives by the day, and acts on expediency; the other acts on enduring principles and for immortality.—Burke.

The worth of a state, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals composing it.—J. Stuart Mill.

Storms.—When splitting winds make flexible the knees of knotted oaks.—Shakespeare.

Strength.—Oh! it is excellent to have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.—Shakespeare.

Study.—Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtile; natural philosophy, deep; moral, grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend.—Bacon.

Whatever study tends neither directly nor indirectly to make us better men and citizens is at best but a specious and ingenious sort of idleness, and the knowledge we acquire by it only a creditable kind of ignorance, nothing more.—Bolingbroke.

There is no one study that is not capable of delighting us after a little application to it.—Pope.

They are not the best students who are most dependent on books. What can be got out of them is at best only material: a man must build his house for himself.—George MacDonald.

The man who has acquired the habit of study, though for only one hour every day in the year, and keeps to the one thing studied till it is mastered, will be startled to see the way he has made at the end of a twelvemonth.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Style.—The style is the man.—Buffon.

As it is a great point of art, when our matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out all sail, so to take it in and contract it is of no less praise when the argument doth ask it.—Ben Jonson.

Not poetry, but prose run mad.—Pope.

There is a certain majesty in plainness; as the proclamation of a prince never frisks it in tropes or fine conceits, in numerous and well-turned periods, but commands in sober natural expressions.—South.

In the present day our literary masonry is well done, but our architecture is poor.—Joubert.

Perhaps that is nearly the perfection of good writing which is original, but whose truth alone prevents the reader from suspecting that it is so; and which effects that for knowledge which the lense effects for the sunbeam, when it condenses its brightness in order to increase its force.—Colton.

A temperate style is alone classical.—Joubert.

Obscurity and affectation are the two great faults of style. Obscurity of expression generally springs from confusion of ideas; and the same wish to dazzle, at any cost, which produces affectation in the manner of a writer, is likely to produce sophistry in his reasoning.—Macaulay.

Style is the gossamer on which the seeds of truth float through the world.—Bancroft.

The lively phraseology of Montesquieu was the result of long meditation. His words, as light as wings, bear on them grave reflections.—Joubert.

Subordination.—The usual way that men adopt to appease the wrath of those whom they have offended, when they are at their mercy, is humble submission; whereas a bold front, a firm and resolute bearing,—means the very opposite,—have been at times equally successful.—Montaigne.

Reverences stand in awe of yourself.—Sydney Smith.

He who reigns within himself, and rules passions, desires, and fears, is more than a king.—Milton.

Success.—It is a mistake to suppose that men succeed through success; they much oftener succeed through failure.—Samuel Smiles.

From mere success nothing can be concluded in favor of any nation upon whom it is bestowed.—Atterbury.

He that would relish success to purpose should keep his passion cool, and his expectation low.—Jeremy Collier.

The road to success is not to be run upon by seven-leagued boots. Step by step, little by little, bit by bit,—that is the way to wealth, that is the way to wisdom, that is the way to glory. Pounds are the sons, not of pounds, but of pence.—Charles Buxton.

The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well; and doing well whatever you do, without a thought of fame.—Longfellow.

Nothing can seem foul to those that win.—Shakespeare.

All the proud virtue of this vaunting world fawns on success and power, however acquired.—Thomson.

A successful career has been full of blunders.—Charles Buxton.

The man who succeeds above his fellows is the one who, early in life, clearly discerns his object, and towards that object habitually directs his powers. Thus, indeed, even genius itself is but fine observation strengthened by fixity of purpose. Every man who observes vigilantly and resolves steadfastly grows unconsciously into genius.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Success soon palls. The joyous time is when the breeze first strikes your sails, and the waters rustle under your bows.—Charles Buxton.

Success at first doth many times undo men at last.—Venning.

Suicide.—Suicide itself, that fearful abuse of the dominion of the soul over the body, is a strong proof of the distinction of their destinies. Can the power that kills be the same that is killed? Must it not necessarily be something superior and surviving? The act of the soul, which in that fatal instant is in one sense so great an act of power, can it at the same time be the act of its own annihilation? The will kills the body, but who kills the will?—Auguste Nicolas.

Those men who destroy a healthful constitution of body by intemperance as manifestly kill themselves as those who hang, or poison, or drown themselves.—Sherlock.

He who, superior to the checks of nature, dares make his life the victim of his reason, does in some sort that reason deify, and takes a flight at heaven.—Young.

Summer.—Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes.—Thomson.

Beneath the Winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.—Whittier.

Sun.—The glorious sun stays in his course, and plays the alchemist, turning with the splendor of his precious eyes the meagre, cloddy earth to glittering gold.—Shakespeare.

The downward sun looks out effulgent from amid the flash of broken clouds.—Thomson.

Sunday.—If the Sunday had not been observed as a day of rest during the last three centuries, I have not the slightest doubt that we should have been at this moment a poorer people and less civilized.—Macaulay.

Oh, what a blessing is Sunday, interposed between the waves of worldly business like the divine path of the Israelites through Jordan! There is nothing in which I would advise you to be more strictly conscientious than in keeping the Sabbath-day holy. I can truly declare that to me the Sabbath has been invaluable.—W. Wilberforce.

Superstition.—A peasant can no more help believing in a traditional superstition than a horse can help trembling when he sees a camel.—George Eliot.

Religion worships God, while superstition profanes that worship.—Seneca.

Every inordination of religion that is not in defect is properly called superstition.—Jeremy Taylor.

The child taught to believe any occurrence a good or evil omen, or any day of the week lucky, hath a wide inroad made upon the soundness of his understanding.—Watts.

Superstition is the only religion of which base souls are capable.—Joubert.

It is of such stuff that superstitions are commonly made; an intense feeling about ourselves which makes the evening star shine at us with a threat, and the blessing of a beggar encourage us. And superstitions carry consequences which often verify their hope or their foreboding.—George Eliot.

We are all tattooed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe; the record may seem superficial, but it is indelible. You cannot educate a man wholly out of the superstitious fears which were implanted in his imagination, no matter how utterly his reason may reject them.—Holmes.

Surety.—He who is surety is never sure. Take advice, and never be security for more than you are quite willing to lose. Remember the words of the wise man. "He that is surety for a stranger shall smart for it; and he that hateth suretyship is sure."—Spurgeon.

Surfeit.—They are sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.—Shakespeare.

Satiety comes of riches, and contumaciousness of satiety.—Solon.

Suspicion.—To be suspicious is to invite treachery.—Voltaire.

There is no rule more invariable than that we are paid for our suspicions by finding what we suspect.—Thoreau.

Suspicion has its dupes, as well as credulity.—Madame Swetchine.

Don't seem to be on the lookout for crows, else you'll set other people watching.—George Eliot.

Sympathy.—Surely, surely, the only true knowledge of our fellow-man is that which enables us to feel with him—which gives us a fine ear for the heart-pulses that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion.—George Eliot.

Next to love, sympathy is the divinest passion of the human heart.—Burke.

Outward things don't give, they draw out. You find in them what you bring to them. A cathedral makes only the devotional feel devotional. Scenery refines only the fine-minded.—Charles Buxton.

Of all the virtues necessary to the completion of the perfect man, there is none to be more delicately implied and less ostentatiously vaunted than that of exquisite feeling or universal benevolence.—Bulwer-Lytton.

I would go fifty miles on foot to kiss the hand of that man whose generous heart will give up the reins of his imagination into his author's hands; be pleased, he knows not why, and cares not wherefore.—Sterne.

T.

Tact.—A tact which surpassed the tact of her sex as much as the tact of her sex surpasses the tact of ours.—Macaulay.

Talent.—It is adverse to talent to be consorted and trained up with inferior minds or inferior companions, however high they may rank. The foal of the racer neither finds out his speed, nor calls out his powers, if pastured out with the common herd that are destined for the collar and the yoke.—Colton.

Whatever you are from nature, keep to it; never desert your own line of talent. Be what nature intended you for, and you will succeed; be anything else, and you will be ten thousand times worse than nothing!—Sydney Smith.

Gross and vulgar minds will always pay a higher respect to wealth than to talent; for wealth, although it be a far less efficient source of power than talent, happens to be far more intelligible.—Colton.

As to great and commanding talents, they are the gift of Providence in some way unknown to us. They rise where they are least expected. They fail when everything seems disposed to produce them, or at least to call them forth.—Burke.

Talent is the capacity of doing anything that depends on application and industry, and it is a voluntary power, while genius is involuntary.—Hazlitt.

Talent, lying in the understanding, is often inherited; genius, being the action of reason or imagination, rarely or never.—Coleridge.

It always seemed to me a sort of clever stupidity only to have one sort of talent,—almost like a carrier-pigeon.—George Eliot.

Talking.—I know a lady that loves talking so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play; she has that everlasting rotation of tongue, that an echo must wait till she dies, before it can catch her last words!—Congreve.

Talkers are no good doers.—Shakespeare.

When I think of talking, it is of course with a woman. For talking at its best being an inspiration, it wants a corresponding divine quality of receptiveness, and where will you find this but in woman?—Holmes.

Who think too little and who talk too much.—Dryden.

They talk most who have the least to say.—Prior.

Taste.—Taste is the power of relishing or rejecting whatever is offered for the entertainment of the imagination.—Goldsmith.

There are some readers who have never read an essay on taste; and if they take my advice they never will; for they can no more improve their taste by so doing than they could improve their appetite or digestion by studying a cookery-book.—Southey.

Those internal powers, active and strong, and feelingly alive to each fine impulse.—Akenside.

All our tastes are but reminiscences.—Lamartine.

Teaching.—Count it one of the highest virtues upon earth to educate faithfully the children of others, which so few, and scarcely any, do by their own.—Luther.

The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Tears.—The overflow of a softened heart.—Madame Swetchine.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.—Bible.

In woman's eye the unanswerable tear.—Byron.

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence.—Moore.

God washes the eyes by tears until they can behold the invisible land where tears shall come no more. O love! O affliction! ye are the guides that show us the way through the great airy space where our loved ones walked; and, as hounds easily follow the scent before the dew be risen, so God teaches us, while yet our sorrow is wet, to follow on and find our dear ones in heaven.—Beecher.

The kind oblation of a falling tear.—Dryden.

A penitent's tear is an undeniable ambassador, and never returns from the throne of grace unsatisfied.—Spencer.

Fate and the dooming gods are deaf to tears.—Dryden.

We praise the dramatic poet who possesses the art of drawing tears, a power which he has in common with the meanest onion.—Heinrich Heine.

Her tears her only eloquence.—Rogers.

Eye-offending brine.—Shakespeare.

The tears which flow, and the honors that are paid, when the founders of the republic die, give hope that the republic itself may be immortal.—Daniel Webster.

All my mother came into mine eyes, and gave me up to tears.—Shakespeare.

The tear that is wiped with a little address may be followed, perhaps, by a smile.—Cowper.

Virtue is the daughter of Religion. Her sole treasure is her tears.—Madame Swetchine.

Nothing dries sooner than a tear.—George Herbert.

My plenteous joys, wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves in drops of sorrow.—Shakespeare.

Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew.—Dryden.

Tears are sometimes the happiest smiles of love.—Stendhal.

Tediousness.—The sin of excessive length.—Shirley.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.—Shakespeare.

Teeth.—Teeth like falling snow for white.—Cowley.

Such a pearly row of teeth that sovereignty would have pawned her jewels for them.—Sterne.

Temperance.—Temperance puts wood on the fire, meal in the barrel, flour in the tub, money in the purse, credit in the country, contentment in the house, clothes on the back, and vigor in the body.—Franklin.

I consider the temperance cause the foundation of all social and political reform.—Cobden.

If temperance prevails, then education can prevail; if temperance fails, then education must fail.—Horace Mann.

Temperance to be a virtue must be free and not forced. Virtue may be defended, as vice may be withstood, by a statute, but no virtue is or can be created by a law, any more than by a battering ram a temple or obelisk can be reared.—Bartol.

If you wish to keep the mind clear and the body healthy, abstain from all fermented liquors.—Sydney Smith.

Use, do not abuse; neither abstinence nor excess ever renders man happy.—Voltaire.

He who would keep himself to himself should imitate the dumb animals, and drink water.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Temptation.—No man is matriculated to the art of life till he has been well tempted.—George Eliot.

Temptation is a fearful word. It indicates the beginning of a possible series of infinite evils. It is the ringing of an alarm bell, whose melancholy sounds may reverberate through eternity. Like the sudden, sharp cry of "Fire!" under our windows by night, it should rouse us to instantaneous action, and brace every muscle to its highest tension.—Horace Mann.

Most confidence has still most cause to doubt.—Dryden.

It is a most fearful fact to think of, that in every heart there is some secret spring that would be weak at the touch of temptation, and that is liable to be assailed. Fearful, and yet salutary to think of, for the thought may serve to keep our moral nature braced. It warns us that we can never stand at ease, or lie down in the field of life, without sentinels of watchfulness and camp-fires of prayer.—Chapin.

Love cries victory when the tears of a woman become the sole defense of her virtue.—La Fontaine.

When devils will their blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows.—Shakespeare.

The devil tempts us not: it is we tempt him, beckoning his skill with opportunity.—George Eliot.

Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare.—Dryden.

There are times when it would seem as if God fished with a line, and the devil with a net.—Madame Swetchine.

Tenderness.—When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.—George Eliot.

Theatre.—A man who enters the theatre is immediately struck with the view of so great a multitude, participating of one common amusement; and experiences, from their very aspect, a superior sensibility or disposition of being affected with every sentiment which he shares with his fellow-creatures.—Hume.

The theatre has often been at variance with the pulpit; they ought not to quarrel. How much it is to be wished that the celebration of nature and of God were intrusted to none but men of noble minds!—Goethe.

Theories.—Most men take least notice of what is plain, as if that were of no use; but puzzle their thoughts, and lose themselves in those vast depths and abysses which no human understanding can fathom.—Sherlock.

Metaphysicians can unsettle things, but they can erect nothing. They can pull down a church, but they cannot build a hovel.—Cecil.

Thought.—I have asked several men what passes in their minds when they are thinking, and I could never find any man who could think for two minutes together. Everybody has seemed to admit that it was a perpetual deviation from a particular path, and a perpetual return to it; which, imperfect as the operation is, is the only method in which we can operate with our minds to carry on any process of thought.—Sydney Smith.

A delicate thought is a flower of the mind.—Rollin.

Earnest men never think in vain though their thoughts may be errors.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Though an inheritance of acres may be bequeathed, an inheritance of knowledge and wisdom cannot. The wealthy man may pay others for doing his work for him, but it is impossible to get his thinking done for him by another, or to purchase any kind of self-culture.—Samuel Smiles.

Thoughts shut up want air, and spoil like bales unopened to the sun.—Young.

Good thoughts are blessed guests, and should be heartily welcomed, well fed, and much sought after. Like rose leaves, they give out a sweet smell if laid up in the jar of memory.—Spurgeon.

Thought is invisible nature—nature is invisible thought.—Heinrich Heine.

Ingenious philosophers tell you, perhaps, that the great work of the steam-engine is to create leisure for mankind. Do not believe them, it only creates a vacuum for eager thought to rush in.—George Eliot.

Wherever a great mind utters its thoughts,—there is Golgotha.—Heinrich Heine.

"Give me," said Herder to his son, as he lay in the parched weariness of his last illness, "give me a great thought, that I may quicken myself with it."—Richter.

You shall see them on a beautiful quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin.—Sheridan.

Fully to understand a grand and beautiful thought requires, perhaps, as much time as to conceive it.—Joubert.

Many men's thoughts are not acorns, but merely pebbles.—Charles Buxton.

A vivid thought brings the power to paint it; and in proportion to the depth of its source is the force of its projection.—Emerson.

Threats.—Those that are the loudest in their threats are the weakest in the execution of them.—Colton.

It makes a great difference in the force of a sentence whether a man be behind it or no.—Emerson.

Time.—Time's abyss, the common grave of all.—Dryden.

Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.—Shakespeare.

Time makes more converts than reason.—Thomas Paine.

Time stoops to no man's lure.—Swinburne.

Time is the wisest councillor.—Pericles.

Time is a wave which never murmurs, because there is no obstacle to its flow.—Madame Swetchine.

Time hath often cured the wound which reason failed to heal.—Seneca.

The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good.—Tennyson.

Part with it as with money, sparing; pay no moment but in purchase of its worth; and what its worth! ask death-beds, they can tell.—Young.

The crutch of Time accomplishes more than the club of Hercules.—Balthaser Gracian.

Time is the shower of Danae; each drop is golden.—Madame Swetchine.

Title.—How impious is the title of "sacred majesty" applied to a worm, who, in the midst of his splendor, is crumbling into dust!—Thomas Paine.

The three highest titles that can be given a man are those of martyr, hero, saint.—Gladstone.

Toleration.—The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have the wider vision.—George Eliot.

Error tolerates, truth condemns.—Fernan Caballero.

Toleration is the best religion.—Victor Hugo.

Tongue.—When we advance a little into life, we find that the tongue of man creates nearly all the mischief of the world.—Paxton Hood.

Travel.—Rather see the wonders of the world abroad, than, living dully sluggardized at home wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.—Shakespeare.

Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins.—N. P. Willis.

The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.—Johnson.

To see the world is to judge the judges.—Joubert.

The bee, though it finds every rose has a thorn, comes back loaded with honey from his rambles, and why should not other tourists do the same.—Haliburton.

Treason.—Treason pleases, but not the traitor.—Cervantes.

The man was noble; but with his last attempt he wiped it out; betrayed his country; and his name remains to the ensuing age abhorred.—Shakespeare.

Trifles.—A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.—Shakespeare.

We are not only pleased but turned by a feather. The history of a man is a calendar of straws. If the nose of Cleopatra had been shorter, said Pascal, in his brilliant way, Antony might have kept the world.—Willmott.

A drop of water is as powerful as a thunderbolt.—Huxley.

Riches may enable us to confer favors; but to confer them with propriety and with grace requires a something that riches cannot give: even trifles may be so bestowed as to cease to be trifles. The citizens of Megara offered the freedom of their city to Alexander; such an offer excited a smile in the countenance of him who had conquered the world; but he received this tribute of their respect with complacency on being informed that they had never offered it to any but to Hercules and himself.—Colton.

There is a kind of latent omniscience not only in every man but in every particle.—Emerson.

It is in those acts called trivialities that the seeds of joy are forever wasted, until men and women look round with haggard faces at the devastation their own waste has made, and say, the earth bears no harvest of sweetness—calling their denial knowledge.—George Eliot.

The chains which cramp us most are those which weigh on us least.—Madame Swetchine.

Little things console us, because little things afflict us.—Pascal.

Trouble.—Annoyance is man's leaven; the element of movement, without which we would grow mouldy.—Feuchtersleben.

Truth.—Veracity is a plant of Paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.—George Eliot.

Nothing so beautiful as truth.—Des Cartes.

All high truth is poetry. Take the results of science: they glow with beauty, cold and hard as are the methods of reaching them.—Charles Buxton.

Truth never turns to rebuke falsehood; her own straightforwardness is the severest correction.—Thoreau.

Whenever you look at human nature in masses, you find every truth met by a counter truth, and both equally true.—Charles Buxton.

Truth need not always be embodied; enough if it hovers around like a spiritual essence, which gives one peace, and fills the atmosphere with a solemn sweetness like harmonious music of bells.—Goethe.

Dare to be true; nothing can need a lie.—George Herbert.

We must never throw away a bushel of truth because it happens to contain a few grains of chaff; on the contrary, we may sometimes profitably receive a bushel of chaff for the few grains of truth it may contain.—Dean Stanley.

The first great work is that yourself may to yourself be true.—Roscommon.

In troubled water you can scarce see your face, or see it very little, till the water be quiet and stand still: so in troubled times you can see little truth; when times are quiet and settled, then truth appears.—Selden.

Men are as cold as ice to the truth, hot as fire to falsehood.—La Fontaine.

The way of truth is like a great road. It is not difficult to know it. The evil is only that men will not seek it. Do you go home and search for it.—Mencius.

Speaking truth is like writing fair, and comes only by practice; it is less a matter of will than of habit; and I doubt if any occasion can be trivial which permits the practice and formation of such a habit.—Ruskin.

Forgetting that the only eternal part for man to act is man, and that the only immutable greatness is truth.—Lamartine.

Truth takes the stamp of the souls it enters. It is rigorous and rough in arid souls, but tempers and softens itself in loving natures.—Joubert.

Truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.—Gray.

The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.—Cowper.

Blunt truths make more mischief than nice falsehoods do.—Pope.

Truth has rough flavors if we bite through.—George Eliot.

Truth is a torch, but one of enormous size; so that we slink past it in rather a blinking fashion for fear it should burn us.—Goethe.

All truths are not to be repeated, still it is well to hear them.—Mme. du Deffaud.

It is only when one is thoroughly true that there can be purity and freedom. Falsehood always avenges itself.—Auerbach.

Nothing from man's hands, nor law, nor constitution, can be final. Truth alone is final.—Charles Sumner.

Verity is nudity.—Alfred de Musset.

Twilight.—Parting day dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues with a new color as it gasps away, the last still loveliest, till 'tis gone, and all is gray.—Byron.

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon, like a magician, extended his golden wand o'er the landscape.—Longfellow.

Twilight gray hath in her sober livery all things clad.—Milton.

The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!—Longfellow.

The weary sun hath made a golden set, and, by the bright track of his fiery car, gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.—Shakespeare.

U.

Ugliness.—I do not know that she was virtuous; but she was always ugly, and with a woman, that is half the battle.—Heinrich Heine.

Ugliness, after virtue, is the best guardian of a young woman.—Mme. de Genlis.

Understanding.—The eye of the understanding is like the eye of the sense; for as you may see great objects through small crannies or holes, so you may see great axioms of nature through small and contemptible instances.—Bacon.

In its wider acceptation, understanding is the entire power of perceiving and conceiving, exclusive of the sensibility; the power of dealing with the impressions of sense, and composing them into wholes, according to a law of unity: and in its most comprehensive meaning it includes even simple apprehension.—Coleridge.

Unselfishness.—The essence of true nobility is neglect of self. Let the thought of self pass in, and the beauty of great action is gone, like the bloom from a soiled flower.—Froude.

Uprightness.—To redeem a world sunk in dishonesty has not been given thee. Solely over one man therein thou hast quite absolute control. Him redeem, him make honest.—Thomas Carlyle.

Urbanity.—Poor wine at the table of a rich host is an insult without an apology. Urbanity ushers in water that needs no apology, and gives a zest to the worst vintage.—Zimmermann.

Usefulness.—Nothing in this world is so good as usefulness. It binds your fellow-creatures to you, and you to them; it tends to the improvement of your own character; and it gives you a real importance in society, much beyond what any artificial station can bestow.—Sir B. C. Brodie.

On the day of his death, in his eightieth year, Elliott, "the Apostle of the Indians," was found teaching an Indian child at his bed-side. "Why not rest from your labors now?" asked a friend. "Because," replied the venerable man, "I have prayed God to render me useful in my sphere, and He has heard my prayers; for now that I can no longer preach, He leaves me strength enough to teach this poor child the alphabet."—Rev. J. Chaplin.

There is but one virtue—the eternal sacrifice of self.—George Sand.

V.

Valentine.—Hail to thy returning festival, old Bishop Valentine! Great is thy name in the rubric. Like unto thee, assuredly, there is no other mitred father in the calendar.—Charles Lamb.

The fourteenth of February is a day sacred to St. Valentine! It was a very odd notion, alluded to by Shakespeare, that on this day birds begin to couple; hence, perhaps, arose the custom of sending on this day letters containing professions of love and affection.—Noah Webster.

Valor.—Valor gives awe, and promises protection to those who want heart or strength to defend themselves. This makes the authority of men among women, and that of a master buck in a numerous herd.—Sir W. Temple.

How strangely high endeavors may be blessed, where piety and valor jointly go.—Dryden.

Those who believe that the praises which arise from valor are superior to those which proceed from any other virtues have not considered.—Dryden.

Vanity.—Verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.—Bible.

Our vanities differ as our noses do: all conceit is not the same conceit, but varies in correspondence with the minutiae of mental make in which one of us differs from another.—George Eliot.

One of the few things I have always most wondered at is, that there should be any such thing as human vanity. If I had any, I had enough to mortify it a few days ago; for I lost my mind for a whole day.—Pope.

Greater mischiefs happen often from folly, meanness, and vanity than from the greater sins of avarice and ambition.—Burke.

It is vanity which makes the rake at twenty, the worldly man at forty, and the retired man at sixty. We are apt to think that best in general for which we find ourselves best fitted in particular.—Pope.

O frail estate of human things.—Dryden.

The vainest woman is never thoroughly conscious of her beauty till she is loved by the man who sets her own passion vibrating in return.—George Eliot.

Vanity is the quicksand of reason.—George Sand.

To be vain is rather a mark of humility than pride. Vain men delight in telling what honors have been done them, what great company they have kept, and the like; by which they plainly confess that these honors were more than their due and such as their friends would not believe if they had not been told. Whereas a man truly proud thinks the greatest honors below his merits, and consequently scorns to boast. I, therefore, deliver it as a maxim, that whoever desires the character of a proud man ought to conceal his vanity.—Swift.

Vexations.—Petty vexations may at times be petty, but still they are vexations. The smallest and most inconsiderable annoyances are the most piercing. As small letters weary the eye most, so also the smallest affairs disturb us most.—Montaigne.

Vice.—As to the general design of providence, the two extremes of vice may serve (like two opposite biases) to keep up the balance of things. When we speak against one capital vice, we ought to speak against its opposite; the middle betwixt both is the point for virtue.—Pope.

This is the essential evil of vice; it debases a man.—Chapin.

It is only in some corner of the brain which we leave empty that Vice can obtain a lodging. When she knocks at your door be able to say: "No room for your ladyship: pass on."—Bulwer-Lytton.

I ne'er heard yet that any of these bolder vices wanted less impudence to gainsay what they did, than to perform it first.—Shakespeare.

Wise men will apply their remedies to vices, not to names; to the causes of evil which are permanent, not the occasional organs by which they act, and the transitory modes in which they appear.—Burke.

One vice worn out makes us wiser than fifty tutors.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Vicissitudes.—We do not marvel at the sunrise of a joy, only at its sunset! Then, on the other hand, we are amazed at the commencement of a sorrow-storm; but that it should go off in gentle showers we think quite natural.—Richter.

Who ordered toil as the condition of life, ordered weariness, ordered sickness, ordered poverty, failure, success,—to this man a foremost place, to the other a nameless struggle with the crowd; to that a shameful fall, or paralyzed limb, or sudden accident; to each some work upon the ground he stands on, until he is laid beneath it.—Thackeray.

Victory.—Victory or Westminster Abbey.—Nelson.

Victory may be honorable to the arms, but shameful to the counsels, of a nation.—Bolingbroke.

Victory belongs to the most persevering.—Napoleon.

It is more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle.—Walter Scott.

Villainy.—Villainy, when detected, never gives up, but boldly adds impudence to imposture.—Goldsmith.

Villainy that is vigilant will be an overmatch for virtue, if she slumber at her post.—Colton.

Violence.—Nothing good comes of violence.—Luther.

Violence does even justice unjustly.—Carlyle.

Vehemence without feeling is rant.—H. Lewes.

Virtue.—I willingly confess that it likes me better when I find virtue in a fair lodging than when I am bound to seek it in an ill-favored creature.—Sir P. Sidney.

This is the tax a man must pay to his virtues—they hold up a torch to his vices, and render those frailties notorious in him which would have passed without observation in another.—Colton.

True greatness is sovereign wisdom. We are never deceived by our virtues.—Lamartine.

It would not be easy, even for an unbeliever, to find a better translation of the rule of virtue from the abstract into the concrete, than to endeavor so to live that Christ would approve our life.—John Stuart Mill.

Most men admire virtue, who follow not her lore.—Milton.

To be able under all circumstances to practice five things constitutes perfect virtue: these five are gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness.—Confucius.

Of the two, I prefer those who render vice lovable to those who degrade virtue.—Joubert.

No man can purchase his virtue too dear, for it is the only thing whose value must ever increase with the price it has cost us. Our integrity is never worth so much as when we have parted with our all to keep it.—Colton.

Virtue can see to do what virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon were in the flat sea sunk.—Milton.

Virtue is voluntary, vice involuntary.—Plato.

Virtue is a rough way but proves at night a bed of down.—Wotton.

Is virtue a thing remote? I wish to be virtuous, and lo! virtue is at hand.—Confucius.

Virtues that shun the day and lie concealed in the smooth seasons and the calm of life.—Addison.

That virtue which requires to be ever guarded is scarce worth the sentinel.—Goldsmith.

Why expect that extraordinary virtues should be in one person united, when one virtue makes a man extraordinary? Alexander is eminent for his courage; Ptolemy for his wisdom; Scipio for his continence; Trajan for his love of truth; Constantius for his temperance.—Zimmermann.

Virtue dwells at the head of a river, to which we cannot get but by rowing against the stream.—Feltham.

Our virtues live upon our income, our vices consume our capital.—J. Petit Senn.

Wealth is a weak anchor, and glory cannot support a man; this is the law of God, that virtue only is firm, and cannot be shaken by a tempest.—Pythagoras.

All bow to virtue and then walk away.—De Finod.

Virtue is an angel; but she is a blind one, and must ask of Knowledge to show her the pathway that leads to her goal. Mere knowledge, on the other hand, like a Swiss mercenary, is ready to combat either in the ranks of sin or under the banners of righteousness,—ready to forge cannon-balls or to print New Testaments, to navigate a corsair's vessel or a missionary ship.—Horace Mann.

Vulgarity.—The vulgarity of inanimate things requires time to get accustomed to; but living, breathing, bustling, plotting, planning, human vulgarity is a species of moral ipecacuanha, enough to destroy any comfort.—Carlyle.

Dirty work wants little talent and no conscience.—George Eliot.

W.

Waiting.—It is the slowest pulsation which is the most vital. The hero will then know how to wait, as well as to make haste. All good abides with him who waiteth wisely.—Thoreau.

Want.—Nothing makes men sharper than want.—Addison.

Hundreds would never have known want if they had not first known waste.—Spurgeon.

It is not from nature, but from education and habits, that our wants are chiefly derived.—Fielding.

If any one say that he has seen a just man in want of bread, I answer that it was in some place where there was no other just man.—St. Clement.

War.—Take my word for it, if you had seen but one day of war, you would pray to Almighty God that you might never see such a thing again.—Wellington.

Wherever there is war, there must be injustice on one side or the other, or on both. There have been wars which were little more than trials of strength between friendly nations, and in which the injustice was not to each other, but to the God who gave them life. But in a malignant war there is injustice of ignobler kind at once to God and man, which must be stemmed for both their sakes.—Ruskin.

Civil wars leave nothing but tombs.—Lamartine.

The fate of war is to be exalted in the morning, and low enough at night! There is but one step from triumph to ruin.—Napoleon.

Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit.—Spenser.

Providence for war is the best prevention of it.—Bacon.

The bodies of men, munition, and money, may justly be called the sinews of war.—Sir W. Raleigh.

War is the matter which fills all history, and consequently the only or almost the only view in which we can see the external of political society is in a hostile shape; and the only actions to which we have always seen, and still see, all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of one another.—Burke.

As long as mankind shall continue to bestow more liberal applause on their destroyers than on their benefactors, the thirst of military glory will ever be the vice of the most exalted characters.—Gibbon.

The fate of a battle is the result of a moment,—of a thought: the hostile forces advance with various combinations, they attack each other and fight for a certain time; the critical moment arrives, a mental flash decides, and the least reserve accomplishes the object.—Napoleon.

The feast of vultures, and the waste of life.—Byron.

I abhor bloodshed, and every species of terror erected into a system, as remedies equally ferocious, unjust, and inefficacious against evils that can only be cured by the diffusion of liberal ideas.—Mazzini.

Weakness.—Weakness is thy excuse, and I believe it; weakness to resist Philistian gold: what murderer, what traitor, parricide, incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness.—Milton.

The strength of man sinks in the hour of trial; but there doth live a Power that to the battle girdeth the weak.—Joanna Baillie.

How many weak shoulders have craved heavy burdens?—Joubert.

Weakness is born vanquished.—Madame Swetchine.

Wealth.—An accession of wealth is a dangerous predicament for a man. At first he is stunned, if the accession be sudden; he is very humble and very grateful. Then he begins to speak a little louder, people think him more sensible, and soon he thinks himself so.—Cecil.

If Wealth come, beware of him, the smooth, false friend! There is treachery in his proffered hand; his tongue is eloquent to tempt; lust of many harms is lurking in his eye; he hath a hollow heart; use him cautiously.—Tupper.

Men pursue riches under the idea that their possession will set them at ease, and above the world. But the law of association often makes those who begin by loving gold as a servant, finish by becoming themselves its slaves; and independence without wealth is at least as common as wealth without independence.—Colton.

Weeping.—What women would do if they could not cry, nobody knows! What poor, defenseless creatures they would be!—Douglas Jerrold.

Welcome.—Heaven opened wide her ever-during gates, harmonious sound! on golden hinges turning.—Milton.

Wickedness.—The happiness of the wicked passes away like a torrent.—Racine.

The hatred of the wicked is only roused the more from the impossibility of finding any just grounds on which it can rest; and the very consciousness of their own injustice is only a grievance the more against him who is the object of it.—Rousseau.

Wickedness is a wonderfully diligent architect of misery, of shame, accompanied with terror and commotion, and remorse, and endless perturbation.—Plutarch.

What rein can hold licentious wickedness, when down the hill he holds his fierce career?—Shakespeare.

Wife.—Thy wife is a constellation of virtues; she's the moon, and thou art the man in the moon.—Congreve.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.—Shakespeare.

O woman! thou knowest the hour when the goodman of the house will return, when the heat and burden of the day are past; do not let him at such time, when he is weary with toil and jaded with discouragement, find upon his coming to his habitation that the foot which should hasten to meet him is wandering at a distance, that the soft hand which should wipe the sweat from his brow is knocking at the door of other houses.—Washington Irving.

Her pleasures are in the happiness of her family.—Rousseau.

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.—Shakespeare.

The wife safest and seemliest by her husband stays.—Milton.

Will.—In the schools of the wrestling master, when a boy falls he is bidden to get up again, and to go on wrestling day by day till he has acquired strength; and we must do the same, and not be like those poor wretches who, after one failure, suffer themselves to be swept along as by a torrent. You need but will, and it is done; but if you relax your efforts, you will be ruined; for ruin and recovery are both from within.—Epictetus.

Winter.—After summer ever more succeeds the barren winter with his nipping cold.—Shakespeare.

Winter binds our strengthened bodies in a cold embrace constringent.—Thomson.

Wisdom.—Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing: it is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house some time before it fall; it is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the badger, who digged and made room for him; it is the wisdom of the crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour.—Bacon.

Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom.—Coleridge.

Human wisdom makes as ill use of her talent when she exercises it in rescinding from the number and sweetness of those pleasures that are naturally our due, as she employs it favorably, and well, in artificially disguising and tricking out the ills of life to alleviate the sense of them.—Montaigne.

It may be said, almost without qualification, that true wisdom consists in the ready and accurate perception of analogies. Without the former quality, knowledge of the past is uninstructive; without the latter, it is deceptive.—Whately.

You read of but one wise man, and all that he knew was—that he knew nothing.—Congreve.

To be wiser than other men is to be honester than they; and strength of mind is only courage to see and speak the truth.—Hazlitt.

Knowledge comes but wisdom lingers.—Tennyson.

Seize wisdom ere 'tis torment to be wise; that is, seize wisdom ere she seizes thee.—Young.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.—Wordsworth.

No man can be wise on an empty stomach.—George Eliot.

Among mortals second thoughts are wisest.—Euripides.

Wishes.—The apparently irreconcilable dissimilarity between our wishes and our means, between our hearts and this world, remains a riddle.—Richter.

Wit.—I have no more pleasure in hearing a man attempting wit, and failing, than in seeing a man trying to leap over a ditch, and tumbling into it.—Johnson.

Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.—Shakespeare.

Wit must grow like fingers. If it be taken from others 'tis like plums stuck upon blackthorns; there they are for a while, but they come to nothing.—Selden.

If he who has little wit needs a master to inform his stupidity, he who has much frequently needs ten to keep in check his worldly wisdom, which might otherwise, like a high-mettled charger, toss him to the ground.—Scriver.

To place wit above sense is to place superfluity above utility.—Madame de Maintenon.

Woe.—No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.—Walter Scott.

Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.—Herrick.

So many miseries have crazed my voice, that my woe-wearied tongue is still.—Shakespeare.

Woman.—Who does know the bent of woman's fantasy?—Spenser.

Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.—Heinrich Heine.

The happiest women, like the happiest nations, have no history.—George Eliot.

To a gentleman every woman is a lady in right of her sex.—Bulwer-Lytton.

They never reason, or, if they do, they either draw correct inferences from wrong premises, or wrong inferences from correct premises; and they always poke the fire from the top.—Bishop Whately.

The woman must not belong to herself; she is bound to alien destinies. But she performs her part best who can take freely, of her own choice, the alien to her heart, can bear and foster it with sincerity and love.—Richter.

God has placed the genius of women in their hearts; because the works of this genius are always works of love.—Lamartine.

Women for the most part do not love us. They do not choose a man because they love him, but because it pleases them to be loved by him. They love love of all things in the world, but there are very few men whom they love personally.—Alphonse Karr.

Woman is the Sunday of man; not his repose only, but his joy; the salt of his life.—Michelet.

Women see through and through each other; and often we most admire her whom they most scorn.—Charles Buxton.

It goes far to reconciling me to being a woman when I reflect that I am thus in no danger of ever marrying one.—Lady Montague.

Men are women's playthings; woman is the devil's.—Victor Hugo.

Sing of the nature of woman, and the song shall be surely full of variety,—old crotchets and most sweet closes,—it shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly,—one in all, and all in one!—Beaumont.

Her step is music and her voice is song.—Bailey.

Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.—Michelet.

Woman, sister! there are some things which you do not execute as well as your brother, man; no, nor ever will. Pardon me, if I doubt whether you will ever produce a great poet from your choirs, or a Mozart, or a Phidias, or a Michael Angelo, or a great philosopher, or a great scholar. By which last is meant, not one who depends simply on an infinite memory, but also on an infinite and electrical power of combination; bringing together from the four winds, like the angel of the resurrection, what else were dust from dead men's bones, into the unity of breathing life. If you can create yourselves into any of these grand creators, why have you not?—De Quincey.

There are three things a wise man will not trust: the wind, the sunshine of an April day, and woman's plighted faith.—Southey.

Woman is mistress of the art of completely embittering the life of the person on whom she depends.—Goethe.

Women generally consider consequences in love, seldom in resentment.—Colton.

Just corporeal enough to attest humanity, yet sufficiently transparent to let the celestial origin shine through.—Ruffini.

There are female women, and there are male women.—Charles Buxton.

To think of the part one little woman can play in the life of a man, so that to renounce her may be a very good imitation of heroism, and to win her may be a discipline!—George Eliot.

Men at most differ as heaven and earth; but women, worst and best, as heaven and hell.—Tennyson.

Women of forty always fancy they have found the Fountain of Youth, and that they remain young in the midst of the ruins of their day.—Arsene Houssaye.

A woman's hopes are woven of sunbeams; a shadow annihilates them.—George Eliot.

There remains in the faces of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later, an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.—Richter.

Women see without looking; their husbands often look without seeing.—Louis Desnoyeas.

She was in the lovely bloom and spring-time of womanhood; at that age when, if ever, angels be for God's good purposes enthroned in mortal forms, they may be, without impiety, supposed to abide in such as hers. Cast in so slight and exquisite a mould, so mild and gentle, so pure and beautiful, that earth seemed not her element, nor its rough creatures her fit companions.—Dickens.

There is a woman at the beginning of all great things.—Lamartine.

There is something still more to be dreaded than a Jesuit, and that is a Jesuitess.—Eugene Sue.

The honor of woman is badly guarded when it is guarded by keys and spies. No woman is honest who does not wish to be.—Adrian Dupuy.

Words.—There are words which sever hearts more than sharp swords; there are words, the point of which sting the heart through the course of a whole life.—Fredrika Bremer.

Words are often everywhere as the minute-hands of the soul, more important than even the hour-hands of action.—Richter.

"The last word" is the most dangerous of infernal machines; and husband and wife should no more fight to get it than they would struggle for the possession of a lighted bomb-shell.—Douglas Jerrold.

Words, like glass, darken whatever they do not help us to see.—Joubert.

If we use common words on a great occasion they are the more striking, because they are felt at once to have a particular meaning, like old banners, or every-day clothes, hung up in a sacred place.—George Eliot.

Words are but the signs and counters of knowledge, and their currency should be strictly regulated by the capital which they represent.—Colton.

World.—The world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.—Horace Walpole.

Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.—Goldsmith.

Contact with the world either breaks or hardens the heart.—Chamfort.

Why, then the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open.—Shakespeare.

Worship.—Worship as though the Deity were present. If my mind is not engaged in my worship, it is as though I worshiped not.—Confucius.

Writing.—Writing, after all, is a cold and coarse interpreter of thought. How much of the imagination, how much of the intellect, evaporates and is lost while we seek to embody it in words! Man made language and God the genius.—Bulwer-Lytton.

We must write as Homer wrote, not what he wrote.—Theophile Vian.

Wrong.—There is no sort of wrong deed of which a man can bear the punishment alone; you can't isolate yourself and say that the evil that is in you shall not spread. Men's lives are as thoroughly blended with each other as the air they breathe: evil spreads as necessarily as disease.—George Eliot.

My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.—Cowper.

Y.

Youth.—The canker galls the infants of the spring, too oft before their buttons be disclosed; and in the morn and liquid dew of youth contagious blastments are most imminent.—Shakespeare.

Reckless youth makes rueful age.—Moore.

In general, a man in his younger years does not easily cast off a certain complacent self-conceit, which principally shows itself in despising what he has himself been a little time before.—Goethe.

Too young for woe, though not for tears.—Washington Irving.

O youth! thou often tearest thy wings against the thorns of voluptuousness.—Victor Hugo.

O youth! ephemeral song, eternal canticle! The world may end, the heavens fall, yet loving voices would still find an echo in the ruins of the universe.—Jules Janin.

The youthful freshness of a blameless heart.—Washington Irving.

The heart of youth is reached through the senses; the senses of age are reached through the heart.—Retif de la Bretonne.

Agreeable surprises are the perquisites of youth.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Z.

Zeal.—I like men who are temperate and moderate in everything. An excessive zeal for that which is good, though it may not be offensive to me, at all events raises my wonder, and leaves me in a difficulty how I should call it.—Montaigne.

In the ardor of pursuit men soon forget the goal from which they start.—Schiller.

Experience shows that success is due less to ability than to zeal. The winner is he who gives himself to his work, body and soul.—Charles Buxton.

Tell zeal it lacks devotion.—Sir W. Raleigh.

Nothing to build and all things to destroy.—Dryden.

Nothing can be fairer, or more noble, than the holy fervor of true zeal.—Moliere.

People give the name of zeal to their propensity to mischief and violence, though it is not the cause, but their interest, that inflames them.—Montaigne.

The frenzy of nations is the statesmanship of fate.—Bulwer-Lytton.

Zealot.—When we see an eager assailant of one of these wrongs, a special reformer, we feel like asking him, What right have you, sir, to your one virtue? Is virtue piecemeal?—Emerson.

What I object to Scotch philosophers in general is, that they reason upon man as they would upon a divinity; they pursue truth without caring if it be useful truth.—Sydney Smith.

I have never known a trader in philanthropy who was not wrong in his head or heart somewhere or other.—Coleridge.

They have an idol, to which they consecrate themselves high-priests, and deem it holy work to offer sacrifices of whatever is most precious.—Hawthorne.

* * * * *

The end crowns all; and that old common arbitrator, Time, will one day end all.—Shakespeare.