Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.

The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuous in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous.

He that speaks much, is much mistaken.

No greater grief than to remember days of joy, when misery is at hand!

Too much happiness always overflows into tears of sorrow.

Great griefs exhaust. They discourage us with life. The man into whom they enter feels something taken from him. In youth, their visit is sad; later on, it is ominous.

Men of profound sadness betray themselves when they are happy: they have a mode of seizing upon happiness as though they would choke and strangle it, out of jealousy — ah, they know only too well that it will flee from them!

Even as he who glories while he gains will, when the time has come to tally loss, lament with every thought and turn despondent,

The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in the excess of grief.

The story of his downfall is soon told; for it came, as so often happens, just when he felt unusually full of high hopes, good resolutions, and dreams of a better life.

With words one man can make another blessed, or drive him to despair;

Confounded, though immortal. But his doom, reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought both of lost happiness and lasting pain torments him.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

Excess of grief, like excess of joy is a violent thing which lasts but a short time. The heart of man cannot remain long in one extremity.