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?
A quiet mediocrity is still to be preferred before a troubled superfluity.
Joy never feasts so high as when the first course is of misery.
Success is a rare paint, hides all the ugliness.
Beauties that from worth arise are like the grace of deities.
Opportunity, to statesmen, is as the just degree of heat to chemists; it perfects all the work.