"Compassion is the antitoxin of the soul: where there is compassion even the most poisonous impulses ..." — Eric Hoffer

It is a sign of creeping inner death when we can no longer praise the living.

Men weary as much of not doing the things they want to do as of doing the things they do not want to do.

We can be absolutely certain only about things we do not understand.

The pleasure we derive from doing favors is partly in the feeling it gives us that we are not altogether worthless. It is a pleasant surprise to ourselves.