There is such a grateful tickling in the mind of man in being commended that even when we know the praises which are bestowed on us are not our due, we are not angry with the author's insincerity.

Wording recorded in the collection; original language not established.

There is such a grateful tickling in the mind of man in being commended that even when we know the praises which are bestowed on us are not our due, we are not angry with the author's insincerity.

Owen Feltham · Book of Wise Sayings · 1893 · n. 323

Wording recorded in the collection; original language not established.

The life of man is the incessant walk of nature, wherein every moment is a step towards death. Even our growing to perfection is a progress to decay. Every thought we have is a sand running out of the glass of life.

Owen Feltham · Book of Wise Sayings · 1893 · n. 133

Wording recorded in the collection; original language not established.

I never yet found pride in a noble nature nor humility in an unworthy mind.

Owen Feltham · Book of Wise Sayings · 1893 · n. 157

Wording recorded in the collection; original language not established.

We magnify the wealthy man, though his parts be never so poor. The poor man we despise, be he never so well qualified. Gold is the coverlet of imperfections. It is the fool's curtain, which hides all his defects from the world.

Owen Feltham · Book of Wise Sayings · 1893 · n. 427

Wording recorded in the collection; original language not established.

Discontent is like ink poured into water, which fills the whole fountain full of blackness. It casts a cloud over the mind, and renders it more occupied about the evil which disquiets it than about the means of removing it.

Owen Feltham · Book of Wise Sayings · 1893 · n. 520