Don't long for the unripe grape.

A shoe that is too large is apt to trip one, and when too small, to pinch the feet. So it is with those whose fortune does not suit them.

Designedly God covers in dark night the issue of futurity.

Drive Nature from your door with a pitchfork, and she will return again and again.

I am not bound over to swear allegiance to any master; where the storm drives me I turn in for shelter.

And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low mimic follies of a farce, As a grave matron would to dance with girls.

Blind self-love, vanity, lifting aloft her empty head, and indiscretion, prodigal of secrets more transparent than glass, follow close behind.