Laws can discover sin, but not remove it
Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
He who destroys a good book kills reason itself.
The martyrs shook the powers of darkness with the irresistible power of weakness.
Death ready stands to interpose his dart.