He who has never failed somewhere, that man can not be great.
We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.
To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee; For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.
There is no dignity in wickedness, whether in purple or rags; and hell is a democracy of devils, where all are equals.
There is a touch of divinity even in brutes, and a special halo about a horse, that should forever exempt him from indignities.
Toil is man’s allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that’s more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.
To know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.
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