A quiet mediocrity is still to be preferred before a troubled superfluity.
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?
Tis love in love that makes the sport.
Opportunity, to statesmen, is as the just degree of heat to chemists; it perfects all the work.
Expectation makes a blessing dear. Heaven were not heaven if we knew what it was.
Success is a rare paint, hides all the ugliness.