“Luxury is more deadly than any foe.”

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.

All wish to possess knowledge, but few, comparatively speaking, are willing to pay the price.

It is but the weak and little mind that rejoices in revenge

The wise man sets bounds even to his innocent desires.

Whenever fortune wishes to joke, she lifts people from what is humble to the highest extremity of affairs.

In the present state of the world it is difficult not to write lampoons.

Many a man has met death from the rushing flood of his own eloquence; others from the strength and wondrous thews in which they have trusted.

Honesty is admired, and starves.

Today there’s more fellowship among snakes than among mankind. Wild beasts spare those with similar markings.

So Nature ordains; no evil example corrupts us so soon and so rapidly as one that has been set at home, since it comes into the mind on high authority.

The tongue is the vile slave’s vilest part.

Remorse is the fruit of crime.

Perhaps the earth can teach us As when everything seems dead And later proves to be alive.

We saw the lightning and that was the guns and then we heard the thunder and that was the big guns; and then we heard the rain falling and that was the blood falling; and when we came to get in the crops, it was dead men that we reaped.

The Egyptians got it wrong. They wrapped the dead. They did not realize I wrapped the living.

My beer drunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world.

A man who is 100% sane is dead.

To travel is to be alive, but to get somewhere is to be dead, for as our own proverb says, To travel well is better than to arrive.

Call no man happy till he is dead.

People say satire is dead. It’s not dead; it’s alive and living in the White House.