A quiet conscience makes one so serene.

We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands.

The best prophet of the future is the past.

What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, is much more common where the climate's sultry.

Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.