The higher the rank the less pretence, because there is less to pretend to.

Tell me, sweet eyes, from what divinest star did ye drink in your liquid melancholy?

Poverty has strange bedfellows.

Read to live, not live to read.

You know There are moments when silence, prolonged and unbroken, More expressive may be than all words ever spoken.

People praise us behind our backs, but we hear them not; few before our faces, and who is not suspicious of the truth of such praise?

Money is a terrible blab; she will betray the secrets of her owner, whatever he do to gag her. His virtues will creep out in her whisper; his vices she will cry aloud at the top of her tongue.