The commendation of adversaries is the greatest triumph of a writer, because it never comes unless extorted.
The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
He made all countries where he came his own.
He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
Even victors are by victories undone.
War is a trade of kings.