Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

The victor is often vanquished by his own success.

Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

As freely as the firmament embraces the world, or the sun pours forth impartially his beams, so mercy must encircle both friend and foe.

Satisfied if they themselves can escape from the hard labour of thought, they willingly abandon to others the guardianship of their thoughts.

Speech is always bolder than action.

Innocence has a friend in heaven.