He Scatters Enjoyment Who Can Enjoy Much.

Wishes Run Over In Loquacious Impotence, Will Presses On With Laconic Energy.

Do Not Believe That A Book Is Good, If In Reading It Thou Dost Not Become More Contented With Thy Existence, If It Does Not Rouse Up In Thee Most Generous Feelings.

Wisdom Is The Repose Of The Mind.

Malice Is Poisoned By Her Own Venom.

What Do I Owe To My Times, To My Country, To My Neighbors, To My Friends? Such Are The Questions Which A Virtuous Man Ought Often To Ask Himself.