Jealousy, in spite of the mad frenzy of its most splendid displays, is a vice of weakness it arises from a mind whose aspirations and desires are inferior to its accomplishments it is the child of baulked vanity and failure of courage.

Truth is the one thing in nature always consistent with itself, and it is the one guide given to us in steering on the ocean of fate.

To any mental state there corresponds a physical condition.

Intuition without reason is the fertile mother of blunders and wrongs.

Every anxiety is a mild form of premonition, and from that point the shade deepens till we get the forebodings and hauntings that merge into lunacy.

Hate engenders hate. Hate spreads to nations, and from this cause we have devastating wars. In the contemplation of these wars and their origins there is something humiliating to our human race. No Hymn of Hate can ever be a paean of humanity.

Jealousy is one of the wickedest of all the passions. It is that which has been the most fruitful mother of tragedies, murders, and wars. But reprehensible though it is, jealousy is almost rather to be pitied than blamed--its first victims are those who harbour the feeling.

Human society is part of the general order, and the more our knowledge increases the less we are inclined to believe that the birth or death of princes, the rise or fall of millionaires, are matters that cause the sun to stand still or even produce the appearance of comets in the sky.

If a man has directed his course to great ends there is compensation even in ruin.