The radiant sun sends from above ten thousand blessings down, nor is he set so high for show alone.

Marriage the happiest bond of love might be, If hands were only joined when hearts agree.

O Love! thou bane of the most generous souls! Thou doubtful pleasure, and thou certain pain.

There is no heaven like mutual love.

The radiant sun sends from above ten thousand blessings down, nor is he set so high for show alone.

Of all the plagues with which the world is curst, Of every ill, a woman is the worst.

Shall Nature, erring from her first command, self-preservation, fall by her own hand?