world
Voice of the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute
Wait, child! What is life but waiting?
Waiting is the merchant's wisdom
Wakefulness may prolong the little term of life
War is a perversion of nature
We live for life, not for death
We quarrel with no one more readily than with the benefactor
We each and all are waiting
We've talked a good deal of love with our eyes already
Welcome a small evil when it barred the way to a greater one
Were we not one and all born fools
Wet inside, he can bear a great deal of moisture without
What had formerly afforded me pleasure now seemed shallow
What changes so quickly as joy and sorrow
What are we all but puny children?
What father does not find something to admire in his child
Whatever a man would do himself, he thinks others are capable of
When love has once taken firm hold of a man in riper years
When a friend refuses to share in joys
When men-children deem maids to be weak and unfit for true sport
When hate and revenge speak, gratitude shrinks timidly
When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off
Whether the form of our benevolence does more good or mischief
Whether man were the best or the worst of created beings
Whether the historical romance is ever justifiable
Who watches for his neighbour's faults has a hundred sharp eyes
Who can point out the road that another will take
Who can be freer than he who needs nothing
Who only puts on his armor when he is threatened
Who does not struggle ward, falls back
Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again
Who do all they are able and enjoy as much as they can get
Who can take pleasure in always seeing a gloomy face?
Who can prop another's house when his own is falling
Who can hope to win love that gives none
Whoever condemns, feels himself superior
Whoever will not hear, must feel
Wide world between the purpose and the deed
Wise men hold fast by the ever young present
Without heeding the opinion of mortals
Woman who might win the love of a highly-gifted soul (Pays for it)
Woman's disapproving words were blown away by the wind
Woman's hair is long, but her wit is short
Women are indeed the rock ahead in this young fellow's life
Wonder we leave for the most part to children