We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!

Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Railing and praising were his usual themes; and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.

Secret guilt is by silence revealed.

We by art unteach what Nature taught.