Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
The province of the soul is large enough to fill up every cranny of your time, and leave you much to answer for if one wretch be damned by your neglect.
Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.
Boldness is a mask for fear, however great.
For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.
None but the brave deserve the fair.