Man is the circled oak; woman the ivy.
Servile doubt argues an impotence of mind, that says we fear because we dare not meet misfortunes.
Mischief and malice grow on the same branch of the tree of evil.
Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt in soft adoption of another's sorrow.
Courage is poorly housed that dwells in numbers; the lion never counts the herd that are about him, nor weighs how many flocks he has to scatter.
Shun fear, it is the ague of the soul! a passion man created for himself--for sure that cramp of nature could not dwell in the warm realms of glory.