If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.
Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.
Heaven be thanked, we live in such an age, When no man dies for love, but on the stage.
Never was patriot yet, but was a fool.
She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.