When lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, what charm can soothe her melancholy, what art can wash her guilt away?

All the sciences are, in some measure, linked with each other, and before the one is ended, the other begins.

Silence is become his mother tongue.

All that philosophy can teach is to be stubborn or sullen under misfortunes.

Don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter.

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.

Hope, like the gleaming taper