You may build castles in the air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean, and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, or can be true to his wife, or ever was, or will be so.

No man is worth having is true to his wife, or can be true to his wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.

Love, like virtue, is its own reward.

Love's like virtue, 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.

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.

True virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsic worth about it.