Hate is a bottomless cup; I will pour and pour
Leave no stone unturned.
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!
One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives.
I have found power in the mysteries of thought.
Bodies devoid of mind are as statues in the market place.