“If there is no love more in yonder heart, it is but a corpse unburied.”

Business first; pleasure afterwards.

To endure is greater than to dare; to tire out hostile fortune; to be daunted my no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; to forgo even ambition when the end is gained – who can say this is not greatness?

Let a man who has to make his fortune in life remember this maxim: Attacking is the only secret. Dare and the world yields, or if it beats you sometimes, dare it again and you will succeed.

It’s a great comfort to some people to groan over their imaginary ills.

We know that Heaven chastens those whom it loves best; being pleased by repeated trials, to make pure spirits more pure.

Vanity is often the unseen spur.

Lucky he who has been educated to bear his fate, whatsoever it may be, by an early example of uprightness, and a childish training in honor.

When you look at me, when you think of me, I am in paradise.

Oh, Vanity of vanities! How wayward the decrees of Fate are; How very weak the very wise, How very small the very great are!

Love seems to survive life, and to reach beyond it. I think we take it with us past the grave. Do we not still give it to those who have left us? May we not hope that they feel it for us, and that we shall leave it here in one or two fond bosoms, when we also are gone?

Sir, Respect Your Dinner: idolize it, enjoy it properly. You will be many hours in the week, many weeks in the year, and many years in your life happier if you do.

Alas! we are the sport of destiny.

The great moments of life are but moments like the others. Your doom is spoken in a word or two. A single look from the eyes; a mere pressure of the hand, may decide it; or of the lips though they cannot speak.

Humor is wit and love.

It is comparatively easy to leave a mistress, but very hard to be left by one.

To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.

Most people die at age 25 and are buried at age 65.

I should like to bury something precious in every place where I’ve been happy and then, when I’m old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember.

Your magic is too golden, too sky-opening, too hearts-bursting to be buried quietly away.

With work and life, your true depth can become an alien thing to you. Your gut feelings, your instincts become buried.

After traveling through fourteen foreign countries and appearing before all the royalty and nobility I have only one wish today. That is that when my eyes are closed in death that they will bury me back in that quiet little farm land where I was born.

Sometimes the world buries me but flowers can grow only from beneath.

It’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.