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

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

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.

A slighted woman knows no bounds.

Love's like virtue, its own reward.

Love, like virtue, is its own reward.

Custom is the law of fools.