All I know is, I've got to work
Attend to your own faults, and not pry into other people's
Beastly as a vulgar woman's laugh
But one's alone when it comes to the run-in
Can we never have quite enough?
Charming generalities
Constitutionally averse to being pitied
Contentment that men experience at the misfortunes of an enemy
Could never tell exactly when to stop
Each one of us lives on the edge of a volcano
Every bird singing from the bottom of his heart
Fear and anger in me are very much the same
Free from all self-consciousness
Her imperfections were beautiful to me
How simply he assumed that he was going to be great
In a time of agony one finds out what are the things one can do
It seems always rude to speak the truth
Man can only endure about half his joy; about half his sorrow
Man must neither beg anything of a woman, nor force anything
Men who haven't the courage of their own ideas
Never grossly drunk, and rarely very sober
Not a bad rule that measures men by the balance at their banks
Obstinate enough, but obstinacy isn't strength
Only understand what they can see and touch
People may become utter strangers without a word
So sacred that they melt away at the approach of words
Spring; it makes one want more than one has got
Time is everything
What is it to be brave?
What's not enough for one is not enough for two
When things have come to a crisis, how little one feels
When we hope, we are not brave
With an air of sacrificing to the public good
Women are generous--they will give you what they can
You can't punish unless you make to feel
You may force a body; how can you force a soul?
You're glad that hope is dead, it means rest
SAINT'S PROGRESS
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