Quotes 6881 till 6900 of 26185.
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How much greater confidence has an advocate, retained with a large fee, in the justice of his cause! How much better does his bold manner make his case appear to the judges, deceived as they are by appearances! How ludicrous is reason, blown with a breath in every direction!
Pensees (1669) -
How much longer are we going to think it necessary to be ''American'' before (or in contradistinction to) being cultivated, being enlightened, being humane, and having the same intellectual discipline as other civilized countries?
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How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
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How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it.
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How much pain worries have cost us that have never happened?
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How much time he saves who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks.
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How much we like ourselves governs our performance.
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How natural that the errors of the ancient should be handed down and, mixing with the principles and system which Christ taught, give to us an adulterated Christianity.
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How often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.
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How one can live without being able to judge oneself, criticize what one has accomplished, and still enjoy what one does, is unimaginable to me.
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How rare and wonderful is that flash of a moment when we realize we have discovered a friend.
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How ridiculous and unrealistic is the man who is astonished at anything that happens in life.
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How ridiculous I was as a Marionette! And how happy I am, now that I have become a real boy!
Adventures of Pinocchio. Ediz. Illustrata (2012 edition), Edimedia -
How selfhood begins with a walking away, and love is proved in the letting go.
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How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, and love the offender, yet detest the offence?
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How sick one gets of being ''good,'' how much I should respect myself if I could burst out and make everyone wretched for twenty-four hours; embody selfishness.
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How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
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How strange a thing this is! The Priest telleth me that the Soul is worth all the gold in the world, and the merchants say that it is not worth a clipped piece of silver.
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How sweet it is to love, and to be dissolved, and as it were to bathe myself in thy love.
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How the mother is to be pitied who hath handsome daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and lectures of morality are nothing to them: they break through them all. They have as much pleasure in cheating a father and mother, as in cheating at cards.
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