An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there.
Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
Some wits, too, like oracles, deal in ambiguities, but not with equal success; for though ambiguities are the first excellence of an imposter, they are the last of a wit.
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
We are not all great because we are inspired, but we feel great because we are.