Faith goes out through the window when beauty comes in at the door.

'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.

Ay, rail at gaming - 'tis a rich topic, and affords noble declamation. Go, preach against it in the city - you'll find a congregation in every tavern.

The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.

But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound.

Honesty needs no pains to set itself off.

I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.