What anger worse or slower to abate then lovers love when it turns to hate.
You were a stranger to sorrow: therefore Fate has cursed you.
Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows a storm.
Love distills desire upon the eyes, love brings bewitching grace into the heart.
Oh, trebly blest the placid lot of those whose hearth foundations are in pure love laid, where husband's breast with tempered ardor glows, and wife, oft mother, is in heart a maid!
Evil men by their own nature cannot ever prosper.