Jealousy, the old worm that bites.
Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damn'd ill luck every way.
You may make love in dancing as well as sitting.
Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude.
Of all that writ, he was the wisest bard, who spoke this mighty truth- He that knew all that ever learning writ, Knew only this-that he knew nothing yet.
Love ceases to be a pleasure, when it ceases to be a secret.