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No matter if you have lost your property, your health, your reputation even, there is always hope for the man who keeps a firm faith in himself and looks up.

the body is weighed down by the burden of what presses on it, but the soul often adds to the real load a burden of its own

the sensible make their life pleasanter and more endurable by mitigating their sorrows with the consideration of their blessings, while most people, like sieves, let the worst things stick to them while the best pass through

It also makes for contentedness, when things happen against our wish, not to overlook our many advantages and comforts, but by looking at both good and bad to feel that the good preponderate.

Let us cleanse therefore the fountain of contentedness, which is within us, that so external things may turn out for our good, through our putting the best face on them.

as the strings of the bow and lyre are alternately tightened and relaxed, so is it with the order of the world; in human affairs there is nothing pure and without alloy

much of grief is blunted and relaxed when the body is permeated by calm, like the sea in fine weather

Only love is motion and rest in one.

It is for our self to know that it must be born anew every moment of its life.

For life is immortal youthfulness, and it hates age that tries to clog its movements--age that belongs not to life in truth, but follows it as the shadow follows the lamp.

A hopeless feeling descends on one and is hard to fight off.

Well, it is something to have got here, and the wind may be our friend to-morrow.

One can only say 'God help us!' and plod on our weary way, cold and very miserable, though outwardly cheerful.

We are weak, writing is difficult, but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown that Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another, and meet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past.

Amongst ourselves we are unendingly cheerful, but what each man feels in his heart I can only guess.

We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last.

We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far.

There is indeed one element in human destiny that not blindness itself can controvert: whatever else we are intended to do, we are not intended to succeed; failure is the fate allotted.

It may consist with perpetual failure, and find exercise in the continued chase.

Let it be enough for faith, that the whole creation groans in mortal frailty, strives with unconquerable constancy: Surely not all in vain.

Our frailties are invincible, our virtues barren; the battle goes sore against us to the going down of the sun.

Noble disappointment, noble self-denial, are not to be admired, not even to be pardoned, if they bring bitterness.

There is no cutting of the Gordian knots of life; each must be smilingly unravelled.

Even grief, that passion to which the virtuous and tender mind is particularly subject, will be obviated or alleviated by the same thoughts.

Evil is uncertain in the same degree as good, and for the reason that we ought not to hope too securely, we ought not to fear with too much dejection.