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No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue in, and make no effort to escape from.
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Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles.
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Self-confidence is apt to address itself to an imaginary dullness in others; as people who are well off speak in a cajoling tone to the poor.
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The tale of the Divine Pity was never yet believed from lips that were not felt to be moved by human pity.
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I care only to know, if possible, the lasting meaning that lies in all religious doctrine from the beginning till now.
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It’s rather a strong check to one’s self-complacency to find how much of one’s right doing depends on not being in want of money.
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When you get me a good man made out of arguments, I will get you a good dinner with reading you the cookery book.
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Here undoubtedly lies the chief poetic energy: - in the force of imagination that pierces or exalts the solid fact, instead of floating among cloud-pictures.
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Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.
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It is impossible, to me at least, to be poetical in cold weather.
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It's easy finding reasons why other folks should be patient.
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It's no use filling your pocket with money if you have got a hole in the corner.
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More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not forsake us.
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Our thoughts are often worse than we are.
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The worst service, I fancy, that anyone can do for truth, is to set silly people writing on its behalf.
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You have such strong words at command, that they make the smallest argument seem formidable.
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I've always felt that your belongings have never been on a level with you.
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It is very difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too tired.
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Dear Friends all, A thousand Christmas pleasures and blessings to you -- good resolutions and bright hopes for the New Year! Amen. People who can't be witty exert themselves to be pious or affectionate.
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Life is measured by the rapidity of change, the succession of influences that modify the being.
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Human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty - it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it.
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Beauty is part of the finished language by which goodness speaks.
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Love is frightened at the intervals of insensibility and callousness that encroach by little and little on the domain of grief, and it makes efforts to recall the keenness of the first anguish.
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It is a sad weakness in us, after all, that the thought of a man's death hallows him anew to us; as if life were not sacred too.