I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.

Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.

Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?

A feast not profuse but elegant; more of salt [refinement] than of expense.

Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.