For the good, when praised, feel something of disgust, if to excess commended.
There is no harbor of peace from the changing waves of joy and despair.
Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them off or tighten them.
To the worker, God himself lends aid.
The wise with hope support the pains of life.
When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness.