Enough 's as good as a feast.

For one heat, all know, doth drive out another, One passion doth expel another still.

Love is Natures second sun.

An ill weed grows apace.

I will neither yield to the song of the siren nor the voice of the hyena, the tears of the crocodile nor the howling of the wolf.

And let a scholar all earth's volumes carry, he will be but a walking dictionary: a mere articulate clock.

Who hath no faith to man, to God hath none.