Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.

In men, we various ruling passions find; In women, two almost divide the kind Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.

All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye.

Is not absence death to those who love?

Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.

Every woman is at heart a rake.