Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
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.
Beware of the fury of the patient man.
All heiresses are beautiful.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.