Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.
He is a foolish swimmer who swims against the stream, when he might take the current sideways.
The gift derives its value from the rank of the giver.
If God be my friend, I cannot be wretched.
We hate the hawk because he ever lives in battle.
Happy the man who ventures boldly to defend what he holds dear.