A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies, thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man? The smallest part of nothing.
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.
Mine is the night, with all her stars.
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.