“When a noble life has prepared for old age, it is not decline that it reveals, but the first days of immortality.”

Search for the truth is the noblest occupation of man; its publication is a duty.

Genius is essentially creative; it bears the stamp of the individual who possesses it.

The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.

The more I see of men the more I like dogs.

The mystery of existence is the connection between our faults and our misfortunes.

Speech happens to not be his language.

Sow good services: sweet remembrances will grow from them.

To be totally understanding makes one very indulgent.

That past which is so presumptuously brought forward as a precedent for the present, was itself founded on some past that went before it.

Men err from selfishness; women because they are weak.

Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.

Scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for if man’s power is increased.

The human mind always makes progress, but it is a progress in spirals.

A man must know how to fly in the face of opinion; a woman to submit to it.

A religious life is a struggle and not a hymn.

Love is the whole history of a woman’s life, it is but an episode in a man’s.

Never a day passes but that I do myself the honor to commune with some of nature’s varied forms.

Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.

Though leaves are many, the root is one; Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.

Nowhere else than upon the sea do the days, weeks, and months fall away quicker into the past. They seem to be left astern as easily as the light air-bubbles in the swirls of the ship’s wake.

The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower.

Live every day as your last, because one of these days, it will be.

It is one of the enjoyments of retirement that you are able to drift through the day at your own pace, easy in the knowledge that you have put hard work and achievement behind you.