Christian Nestell Bovee (February 22, 1820 – January 18, 1904) was an epigrammatic New York City writer.[1] (wikipedia)
It is the life of democracy to favor equality.
There would not be so much harm in the giddy following the fashions, if somehow the wise could always set them.
In secluding himself too much from society, an author is in danger of losing that intimate acquaintance with life which is the only sure foundation of power in a writer.
Silence, when nothing need be said, is the eloquence of discretion.
Too much society makes a man frivolous; too little, a savage.
To be without sympathy is to be alone in the world--without friends or country, home or kindred.
Nothing is so fragile as thought in its infancy; an interruption breaks it: nothing is so powerful, even to overturning empires, when it reaches its maturity.
Sorrow is never more sorrowful than when it jests at its own misery.
If it is a distinction to have written a good book, it is also a disgrace to have written a bad one.
The reveries of the dreamer advance his hopes, but not their realization. One good hour of earnest work is worth them all.
