Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.

Love is not in our choice but in our fate.

All, as they say, that glitters is not gold.

War is a trade of kings.

An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.

As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes.

Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.