A Quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Everyone complains of his memory, and nobody complains of his judgment. — © Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Everyone complains of his memory, and nobody complains of his judgment.
Every one complains of a poor memory, no one of a weak judgment.
I don't mean to get dark again, but my grandfather has been battling terminal illness. And you know, he never complains. And he has a lot of reasons to complain, but he never complains. And he lost his son a long time ago, when I was a young boy - my uncle. And he never complained.
No man complains of his neighbor for ill management of his affairs, for an error in sowing his land, or marrying his daughter, for consuming his substance in taverns ... in all these he has liberty; but if he does not frequent the church, or then conform in ceremonies, there is an immediate uproar.
When a general complains of the morale of his troops, the time has come to look at his own.
Everyone bowed to that unwritten law of family life which ordains that, in the long run, everyone submerges his personal preference in the effort to conform to that of the member of the circle who complains most loudly and is most difficult to satisfy.
Everyone complains about the weather, but nobody ever seems to do anything about it.
Political corruption is to Rhode Islanders as smog is to people who live in Los Angeles: nobody complains of its absence, but when it rolls around everyone feels right at home.
God abandons only those who abandon themselves, and whoever has the courage to shut up his sorrow within his own heart is stronger to fight against it than he who complains.
An unaspiring person always complaints. There is no end to his complaints. He bitterly complains even when the blessings of opportunity knock at his very door.
Patience is the virtue of an ass, who treads beneath his burden and complains not.
He who complains of the weather, complains of the God who ordained the weather!
The truly patient man neither complains of his hard lot nor desires to be pitied by others. He speaks of his sufferings in a natural, true, and sincere way, without murmuring, complaining, or exaggerating them.
In a painting no one complains that the subject is posed, but everybody complains about what looks posed in a photograph. Except, I've found that if I go very close in to the face, then the posed expression no longer exists. The face becomes a landscape of the lakes of the eyes and the hills of the nose and the valley of the cleft of the chin.
The Atheist complains about the wind. The Christian prays for it to change. The Satanist adjusts his sails.
When a soldier complains of his hard life (or a labourer, etc.) try giving him nothing to do.
Just because nobody complains doesn't mean all parachutes are perfect.
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