Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
Reason is a crutch for age, but youth is strong enough to walk alone.
Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!
Not Heav'n itself upon the past has pow'r; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Even kings but play; and when their part is done, some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.