The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.

The face that cannot smile is never fair.

Gifts are like hooks.

He writes nothing whose writings are not read.

I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.

Be satisfied, and pleased with what thou art, Act cheerfully and well thou allotted part; Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, And neither fear, nor wish, the approaches of the last.

You ask what a nice girl will do? She won't give an inch, but she won't say no.