A Quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Some reproaches praise; some praises reproach. — © Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Some reproaches praise; some praises reproach.
There are reproaches which praise, and praises which defame.
The fire has its flame and praises God. The wind blows the flame and praises God. In the voice we hear the word which praises God. And the word, when heard, praises God. So all of creation is a song of praise to God.
No one praises happiness as one praises justice, but we call it a 'blessing,' deeming it something higher and more divine than things we praise.
Does a man reproach thee for being proud or ill-natured, envious or conceited, ignorant or detracting? Consider with thyself whether his reproaches are true. If they are not, consider that thou art not the person whom he reproaches, but that he reviles an imaginary being, and perhaps loves what thou really art, though he hates what thou appearest to be.
The world is a nest of crows; some caw in praise; some caw in derision. But men should be above the reach of praise and blame.
Someone said: "I have been prejudiced against myself from my earliest childhood: hence I find some truth in all blame and some stupidity in all praise. I generally estimate praise too poorly and blame too highly.
If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they do not deserve.
Praise is more obtrusive than a reproach.
Praise is good. Some people over-praise, though. Genuine appreciation is rare to come by.
I don't want you to praise me...Some praise me because I am a colored girl, and I don't want that kind of praise. I had rather you would point out my defects, for that will teach me something.
What praise is implied in the simple epithet useful! What reproach in the contrary.
Reproach is usually honest, which is more than can be said of praise.
Everyone praises his heart, none dare praise their understanding.
The beautiful in life... Some talk of it in poetry, Some grow it from the soil, Some build it in a steeple, Some show it through their toil. Some breathe it into music, Some mold it into art, Some shape it into bread loaves... Some hold it in their hearts.
But love is different for every person. For some it's hate, for some it's joy, for some it's fear, for some it's jealousy, for some it's torture, for some it's peace. For some it's everything.
O soul, be patient: thou shalt find A little matter mend all this; Some strain of music to thy mind, Some praise for skill not spent amiss.
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