He that sips of many arts, drinks of none.

|
Though like the wanderer, The sun gone down,...

|
Believe in life Always human beings will live and progress to greater, broader and fuller life.

|
Believe in life! Always human beings will live and progress to greater, broader and fuller life.

|
Great is the difference betwixt a man's being frightened at, and humbled for his sins.

|
Racism, pollution and the rest of it are themselves very close to extinction.

|
The more wit the less courage.

|
We are born crying, live complaining, and die disappointed.

|
There is a scarcity of friendship, but not of friends.

|
A man in passion rides a horse that runs away with him.

|
He that plants trees loves others beside himself.

|
A true knight is fuller of bravery in the midst, than in the beginning of danger.

|
Children are born true scientists. They spontaneously experiment and experience and reexperience again. They select, combine, and test, seeking to find order in their experiences - 'which is the mostest? which is the leastest?' They smell, taste, bite, and touch-test for hardness, softness, springiness, roughness, smoothness, coldness, warmness: the heft, shake, punch, squeeze, push, crush, rub, and try to pull things apart.

|
Pollution is nothing but the resources we are not harvesting. We allow them to disperse because we've been ignorant of their value.

|
Charity begins at home, but should not end there.

|
Judge of thine improvement, not by what thou speakest or writest, but by the firmness of thy mind, and the government of thy passions and affections.

|
Today is yesterday's pupil.

|
A good horse should be seldom spurred.

|
The devil himself is good when he is pleased.

|
Thou ought to be nice, even to superstition, in keeping thy promises, and therefore equally cautious in making them.

|
Memory depends very much on the perspicuity, regularity, and order of our thoughts. Many complain of the want of memory, when the defect is in the judgment; and others, by grasping at all, retain nothing.

|
There are two modes of criticism. One which crushes to earth without mercy all the humble buds of Phantasy, all the plants that, though green and fruitful, are also a prey to insects or have suffered by drought. It weeds well the garden, and cannot believe the weed in its native soil may be a pretty, graceful plant. There is another mode which enters into the natural history of every thing that breathes and lives, which believes no impulse to be entirely in vain, which scrutinizes circumstances, motive and object before it condemns, and believes there is a beauty in natural form, if its law and purpose be understood.

|
Change of weather is the discourse of fools.

|
One that would have the fruit must climb the tree.

|
He is not poor that hath not much, but he that craves much.

|
The fool wanders, a wise man travels.

|
Abused patience turns to fury.

|
With foxes we must play the fox.

|
When I'm working on a problem, I never think about beauty. I think only how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution is not beautiful, I know it is wrong.

|
A self-balancing, 28-jointed adaptor-based biped; an electro-chemical reduction plant, integral with segregated stowages of special energy extracts in storage batteries, for subsequent actuation of thousands of hydraulic and pneumatic pumps, with motors attached; 62,000 miles of capillaries....

|