It is not by the gray of the hair that one knows the age of the heart.

The world thinks eccentricity in great things is genius, but in small things, only crazy

Anger ventilated often hurries toward forgiveness; and concealed often hardens into revenge

Whenever man commits a crime heaven finds a witness

We may live without friends; we may live without books, But civilized men cannot live without cooks

The heart of a man's like that delicate weed, Which requires to be trampled on, boldly indeed Ere it gives forth the fragrance you wish to extract