Patch grief with proverbs.
Measure not by the scale of perfection the meager product of reality.
Criticism is prejudice made plausible.
We are prisoners of ideas.
The majority have no other reason for their opinions than that they are the fashion.
Men become civilized, not in proportion to their willingness to believe, but in proportion to their readiness to doubt.
One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives.
Immortal mortals, mortal immortals, one living the others death and dying the others life.
The Three in One, the One in Three? Not so! To my own Gods I go. It may be they shall give me greater ease than your cold Christ and tangled Trinities.
The ladder of success is never crowded at the top.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet one perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always just my luck to get one perfect rose.
He who goes unenvied shall not be admired.
The nearest to perfection that most people come is when filling out an employment application.
He who seldom speaks, and with one calm well-timed word can strike dumb the loquacious, is a genius or a hero.
The poet is the priest of the invisible.
Our faith is faith in someone else's faith, and in the greatest matters this is most the case.
You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with the best you have to give.
Men cannot not live by exchanging articles, but producing them. They live by work not trade.
Circumstances do not make the man, they reveal him.
We would not let ourselves be burned to death for our opinions: we are not sure enough of them for that. But perhaps for the right to have our opinions and to change them.