All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
If its length be not considered a merit, it hath no other.
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
All things but one you can restore; the heart you get returns no more.