As love is the most noble and divine passion of the soul, so is it that to which we may justly attribute all the real satisfactions of life, and without it, man is unfinished, and unhappy.
Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damn'd ill luck every way.
God makes all things good; Man meddles with 'em and they become evil.
Patience is a flatterer, sir, and an ass, sir.
Love, like reputation, once fled, never returns more.
All I ask, is the privilege for my masculine part the poet in me.... If I must not, because of my sex, have this freedom... I lay down my quill and you shall hear no more of me.