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

Can't I another's face commend, Or to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead louers, As if her merit lessen'd yours?

All moral laws are merely statements that certain kinds of actions will have good effects.

Beauty has wings, and too hastily flies, and love, unrewarded, soon sickens and dies.

I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.

I am free in performing an action if I could have done otherwise if I had chosen to.

Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.