No navigator has yet traced lines of latitude and longitude on the conjugal sea.—Balzac.
Has any one ever pinched into its pilulous smallness the cobweb of pre-matrimonial acquaintanceship?—George Eliot.
Mediocrity.—Mediocrity is excellent to the eyes of mediocre people.—Joubert.
Mediocrity is now, as formerly, dangerous, commonly fatal, to the poet; but among even the successful writers of prose, those who rise sensibly above it are the very rarest exceptions.—Gladstone.
Meditation.—Chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy.—Shakespeare.
'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, and ask them what report they bore to heaven, and how they might have borne more welcome news.—Young.
Meditation is that exercise of the mind by which it recalls a known truth, as some kind of creatures do their food, to be ruminated upon till all vicious parts be extracted.—Bishop Horne.
Meekness.—The flower of meekness grows on a stem of grace.—J. Montgomery.
A boy was once asked what meekness was. He thought for a moment and said, "Meekness gives smooth answers to rough questions."—Mrs. Balfour.
Melancholy.—Melancholy is a fearful gift; what is it but the telescope of truth?—Byron.