I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.
Soul of the age! The applause! delight! The wonder of our stage!
Drink today, and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow; Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.
When a virtuous man is raised, it brings gladness to his friends, grief to his enemies, and glory to his posterity.
Hell itself must yield to industry.
The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.