“It is not easy for men to rise whose qualities are thwarted by poverty.”

Vice can deceive under the guise and shadow of virtue.

Every great house is full of haughty servants.

Many commit the same crime with a very different result. One bears a cross for his crime; another a crown.

The love of money grows as the money itself grows.

Some men make fortunes, but not to enjoy them for, blinded by avarice, they live to make fortunes.

Luxury is more deadly than any foe.

No one rejoices more in revenge than woman.

There is nothing worse than words of kindness that lie.

Who will watch the watchers?

Give up all hope of peace so long as your mother-in-law is alive.

Dare to do things worthy of imprisonment if you mean to be of consequence.

Now we suffer the evils of a long peace; luxury more cruel than war broods over us and avenges a conquered world.

Bad men hate sin through fear of punishment; good men hate sin through their love of virtue.

If you are capable of submitting to insult you ought to be insulted.

Writing in the incurable itch that possesses many.

Many individuals have, like uncut diamonds, shining qualities beneath a rough exterior.

I’ve never had a sense of entitlement. I saw how hard my father worked for his money, and it was always made very clear to me that things wouldn’t just be given to me.

Those ills are easiest to bear with which we are most familiar.

Nothing in the world is easier in the United States than to accuse a black man of crime.

I feel like every time I write a song, it feels like the first time I wrote a song. It’s just as hard. It doesn’t get easier, but that’s why I love it: because it’s a challenge every time.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.

The hardest part of leaving is to make it look so easy… isn’t that the unfortunate fuckin truth.

You know, there has never been a 24-hour period in five years when I have not responded to e-mail at Facebook. I am not saying it’s easy. I work long hours.

It’s easier to let a heart wait than make a heartbreak.