Quotes from Johann Kaspar Lavater

The proverbial wisdom of the populace in the street, on the roads, and in the markets instructs the ear of him who studies man more fully than a thousand rules ostentatiously displayed.

You may depend upon it that he is a good man whose intimate friends are all good, and whose enemies are decidedly bad.

What knowledge is there of which man is capable that is not founded on the exterior,--the relation that exists between visible and invisible, the perceptible and the imperceptible?

Depend on no man, on no friend but him who can depend on himself. He only who acts conscientiously toward himself, will act so toward others.

The discovery of truth, by slow progressive meditation, is wisdom. - Intuition of truth, not preceded by perceptible meditation, is genius.

Who, under pressing temptations to lie, adheres to truth, nor to the profane betrays aught of a sacred trust, is near the summit of wisdom and virtue.

Who knows whence he comes, where he is, and whither he tends, he, and he alone, is wise.

Conscience is wiser than science.

Sensibility is the power of woman.

He who sedulously attends, pointedly asks, calmly speaks, coolly answers and ceases when he has no more to say is in possession of some of the best requisites of man

The more uniform a man's voice, step, manner of conversation, handwriting--the more quiet, uniform, settled, his actions, his character.

Before thou callest a man hero or genius, investigate whether his exertion has features of indelibility; for all that is celestial, all genius, is the offspring of immortality.

It is possible that a wise and good man may be prevailed on to game; but it is impossi?ble that a professed gamester should be a wise and good man.

Every man has his devilish minutes.

Women are proverbially credulous.

Action, looks, words, steps, form the alphabet by which you may spell character.

I have remarked a perfect analogy in the language, movement of the body of a person, and his handwriting. The more I compare different handwritings, the more am I convinced that handwriting is the expression of the character of him who writes.

He is incapable of a truly good action who finds not a pleasure in contemplating the good actions of others.

Trust him not with your secrets, who, when left alone in your room, turns over your papers.

He submits himself to be seen through a microscope, who suffers himself to be caught in a fit of passion.

The wrath that on conviction subsides into mildness, is the wrath of a generous mind.

Him, who incessantly laughs in the street, you may commonly hear grumbling in his closet.

Who gives is positive; who receives is negative; still there remains an immense class of mere passives.

Strange that cowards cannot see that their greatest safety lies in dauntless courage.