Det er meneskeligt at fejle, men guddommeligt at tilgive.
Er ikke fravær døden for de, som elsker?
Karakterstyrke er en øvelse, ikke hvile.
Korpsånd, i bedste fald manges galskab til fordelt for få.
Mennesker ville være engle, engle ville være gud.
Nogle har først passeret for åndfulde; derpå for digtere; er rask blevet kritikere dernæst; og har vist sig at være rene tåber tilsidst.
Tåber farer ind, hvor engle frygter at træde.
Verdens største lup er en mands øje, når han betragter sig selv.
A little learning is a dang'rous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.
A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.
A wit 's a feather, and a chief a rod; An honest man 's the noblest work of God.
Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
All gardening is landscape painting.
An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of piety, but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and religion; he finds it easier to be upon his knees than to rise to a good action.
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
And love the offender, yet detest the offence.
And make each day a critic on the last.
And mistress of herself, though china fall.
Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
At every word a reputation dies.
At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offense.
At være vred er at hævne andres fejl på dig selv.
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old: It is the rust we value, not the gold.
Be silent always when you doubt your sense.
Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
False happiness is like false money; it passes for a time as well as the true, and serves some ordinary occasions; but when it is brought to the touch, we find the lightness and alloy, and feel the loss.
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
Fools admire, but men of sense approve.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
For he lives twice who can at once employ The present well, and ev'n the past enjoy.
Genuine religion is not so much a matter of feeling as a matter of principle.
He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
How do we know that we have a right to kill creatures that we are so little above, as dogs, for our curiosity or even for some use to us?
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
How vast a memory has Love!
If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
Is not absence death to those who love?
It is with our judgment as our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, The proper study of mankind is man.
Let spades be trumps! she said, and trumps they were.
Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, More a cunning thing, but very few a generous thing.
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman is at heart a rake.
Most authors steal their works, or buy.
Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in Night, God said, Let Newton be! And all was Light.
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale.
One science only will one genius fit: So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Order is Heaven's first law. Party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet. To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
Say, is not absence death to those who love?
So perish all who do the like again.
Some people will never learn anything, for this reason, because they understand everything too soon.
Some praise at morning what they blame at night, But always think the last opinion right.
The same ambition can destroy or save, and makes a patriot as it makes a knave.
The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O goddess sing! Another version: Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess, sing!
There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.
They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake. Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend.
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
'Tis education forms the common mind: Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.
To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.
To err is human, to forgive divine.
Trust not yourself, but your defects to know, make use of every friend and every foe.
Truth needs not flowers of speech.
Whatever is, is right.
When men grow virtuous in their old age, they only make a sacrifice to God of the devil's leavings.
When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same at last.
Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?
Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.
Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,— His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies. Why has not man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason: man is not a fly.
Woman's at best a contradiction still.
Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see Men not afraid of God, afraid of me.
You eat, in dreams, the custard of the day. You purchase pain with all that joy can give, And die of nothing but a rage to live.