There is but one way I know of conversing safely with all men; that is, not by concealing what we say or do, but by saying or doing nothing that deserves to be concealed.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.

Our judgments, like our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own

A perfect woman's but a softer man.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.