Arms are my ornaments, warfare my repose.

God who gives the wound gives the salve.

Soul of fibre and heart of oak.

Her father guarded her, and she guarded herself; for there are no padlocks, bolts, or bars, that secure a maiden better than her own reserve.

All sorrows are bearable, if there is bread.

Love is influenced by no consideration, recognizes no restraints of reason, and is of the same nature as death, that assails alike the lofty palaces of kings and the humble cabins of shepherds; and when it takes entire possession of a heart, the first thing it does is to banish fear and shame from it.

Don't put too fine a point to your wit for fear it should get blunted.