evil

By swallowing evil words unsaid, no one has ever harmed his stomach.

The surest road to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of those evils we poor mortals know, From doctors and imagination flow.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man,  Of moral evil and of good,  Than all the sages can.

There is no explanation for evil. It must be looked upon as a necessary part of the order of the universe. To ignore it is childish, to bewail it senseless.

There is an old poor man, • • • •. . . . Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus Hath told Cæsar was ambitious; If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it. . . . . For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men. . . . . He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. . . . . When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff . . . . You all did love him once, not without cause.

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones;

Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

A good end cannot sanctify evil means; nor must we ever do evil, that good may come of it. We are too ready to retaliate, rather than forgive or gain by love and information. Force may subdue, but love gains. And one that forgives first wins the laurel.