We forgive injuries, we survive even our remorse for great wrongs that we ourselves commit; but I doubt if we ever forgive slights of this nature put upon us, or forget circumstances in which our self-love has been made to suffer.
We are apt to forget completely a hundred little kindnesses and courtesies which one has shown us, and to remember a single careless slight or thoughtless word.
TOUCHINESS, when it becomes chronic, is a morbid condition of the inward disposition. It is self-love inflamed to the acute point.
DO nothing in a hurry. Nature never does. ‘Most haste, worse speed,’ says the old proverb. If you are in doubt, sleep over it. But, above all, never quarrel in a hurry.
He approaches nearest to the gods who knows how to be silent even though he knows he is in the right.
IF this be one of our chief duties – promoting the happiness of our neighbours – most certainly there is nothing which so entirely runs counter to it, and makes it impossible, as an undisciplined temper.
Especially I object to the assumption that his having a fundamentally good disposition is either an apology or a compensation for his bad behaviour.
And yet men laugh over it. ‘Only temper, they call it: a little hot-headedness, a momentary ruffling of the surface, a mere passing cloud.
If he kicks small animals, swears violently at a servant who mistakes orders, or is grossly rude to his wife, it is remarked apologetically that these things mean nothing – they are all temper.
WE may be somewhat surprised when we discover how precisely Pascal, or Shakspeare, or Montaigne, can put his finger on our weak point, or tell us the truth about some moral lameness or disorder of which we, perhaps, were beginning to accept a more lenient and comfortable diagnosis.
Suffolk Vicar 