“Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.”

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain.

We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.

Remorse begets reform.

Accomplishments have taken virtue’s place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.

[My kitten’s] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.

The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.

Manner is all in all, whate’er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.

Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.

The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.

The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.

Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more.

This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life’s long race.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.

The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.

The fatal tendency of mankind to leave off thinking about a thing when it is no longer doubtful is the cause of half their errors.

The probability of a fatal nuclear detonation is greater now than at any time during the Cold War.

It seems that most of us could benefit from a brush with a near-fatal disaster to help us recognise the important things that we are too defeated or embittered to recognise from day to day.

The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.

Unless it’s a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from.

For to be poised against fatality, to meet adverse conditions gracefully, is more than simple endurance; it is an act of aggression, a positive triumph.

Debt rolls a man over and over, binding him hand and foot, and letting him hang upon the fatal mesh until the long-legged interest devours him.

While other kids were out playing and doing healthy things, I read an ancient judo book with a neck hold that was fatal to so many people they finally dropped it from judo.