Imitators are but a servile kind of cattle.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.
Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.
Repartee is the soul of conversation.
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.