Love, like virtue, is its own reward.

Friendship's said to be a plant of tedious growth, its root composed of tender fibers, nice in their taste, cautious in spreading.

Virtue is its own reward. There's a pleasure in doing good which sufficiently pays itself.

Tho marriage be a lottery in which there are a wondrous many blanks, yet there is one inestimable lot in which the only heaven on earth is written.

The want of a thing is perplexing enough, but the possession of it, is intolerable.

Love's like virtue, its own reward.

Repentance for past crimes is just and easy; but sin-no-more's a task too hard for mortals