I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul; lest it be thought the breath Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee.
Guilt's a terrible thing.
He threatens many that hath injured one.
All the wise world is little else, in nature, But parasites or subparasites.
I glory, more in the cunning purchase of my wealth than in the glad possession.
It is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man everywhere.