Quotes
Quotes about Fault
Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.
O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
All his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote.
'T is a fault to Heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd.
Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?
They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad.
Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie;
A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby.
There's no such thing in Nature; and you 'll draw
A faultless monster which the world ne'er saw.
Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind.
That if weak women went astray,
Their stars were more in fault than they.
And he that does one fault at first
And lies to hide it, makes it two.
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'T is but to know how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
The glorious fault of angels and of gods.
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.
A faultless body and a blameless mind.
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.
Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And even his failings lean'd to Virtue's side.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper circling round
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd.
Yet was he kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault;
The village all declar'd how much he knew,
'T was certain he could write and cipher too.
Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:
If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt.
