Opportunity, to statesmen, is as the just degree of heat to chemists; it perfects all the work.

I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?

Success is a rare paint, hides all the ugliness.

Beauties that from worth arise are like the grace of deities.

'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear.

But as when an authentic watch is shown, Each man winds up and rectifies his own, So in our very judgments.

Joy never feasts so high as when the first course is of misery.