Pity melts the mind to love.
If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
Be slow to resolve, but quick in performance.
I'm a little wounded, but I am not slain; I will lay me down to bleed a while. Then I'll rise and fight again.