APHORISMS.
I think so much of Heine that I am glad I never met him.
Two people are never at the same moment equally angry with one another.
The assertion that we prefer other work than that given us to do, frequently implies a dislike to any work whatever.
Two left-hand gloves do not make a pair. Two half truths do not necessarily constitute a truth.
A horseman once fell from his horse, and since then every one who is thrown calls himself a good rider.
Every one has thoughts. Only with a few persons does thethoughtbecome anidea. Still fewer are those who know how to reproduce the form and colour of their ideas. And to those who do, people continually say, “Just what I was thinking!” Just so—except for the outline—except for the colour—except for the light and shade. That is—except for a great deal.
He who has gone farthest astray is best able to find the right road. I do not say that much straying is necessary to know the way. Nor yet that every one who has gone astray knows it.
When a swift runner breaks his leg, the crawlers have abal paré.
“TWO PEOPLE ARE NEVER AT THE SAME MOMENT EQUALLY ANGRY WITH ONE ANOTHER.”
“TWO PEOPLE ARE NEVER AT THE SAME MOMENT EQUALLY ANGRY WITH ONE ANOTHER.”
“TWO PEOPLE ARE NEVER AT THE SAME MOMENT EQUALLY ANGRY WITH ONE ANOTHER.”
Take one piece of advice. Don’t be advised by any one.
Between soul and speech lies the length of a trumpet. I think—I almost believe—that few trumpets are as short as the Dutch.
In the hospital at Amsterdam a sailor was to have his leg amputated. The professor—I mean Tilanus—took it off for him. The man calmly smoked his pipe, clenched his teeth now and then, but kept the upper hand of the pain.
Professor T. admired his spirit, and spoke in praise of it while he was putting on the bandages.
Suddenly the courageous patient gave a yell. The Professor had pricked him with a pin.
“How!youcalling out like this? You, who just now——”
“That’s true; but look here, Professor,the pin was not in the bargain!”
The sailor was right.
Professor Z. was a friend of Apothecary Y.’s. He invited him to tea one day by means of a note, which got lost.
The note was picked up by a man who knew the signature, and deciphered the rest. He read it as a prescription for convulsions in cattle.
Moral: Not a day passes but the public surprises me with a reading of my writings which is still wilder than the interpretation of Professor Z.’s note.
Multatuli.
Multatuli.
Multatuli.
Multatuli.