In his fairy dreams of war [Thaddeus] always made conquest the sure end of his battles.
The doubts of love are never to be wholly overcome; they grow with its various anxieties, timidities, and tenderness, and are the very fruits of the reverence in which the admired object is beheld.
Nobility, without virtue, is a fine setting without a gem
Bright was the summer of 1296. The war which had desolated Scotland was then at an end.
To be truly and really independent is to support ourselves by our own exertions.
The perfection of outward loveliness is the soul shining through its crystalline covering.