Virtue is its own reward. There's a pleasure in doing good which sufficiently pays itself.
The want of a thing is perplexing enough, but the possession of it, is intolerable.
True virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsic worth about it.
We gentlemen, whose chariot's roll only upon the four aces, are apt to have a wheel out of order.
Love, like virtue, is its own reward.
Repentance for past crimes is just and easy; but sin-no-more's a task too hard for mortals