A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast.

When the roses are gone, nothing is left but the thorn.

There is a good deal in a man's mode of eating.

It is no less a feat to keep what you have, than to increase it. In one there is chance, the other will be a work of art.

Everything comes gradually and at its appointed hour.

Be bold, take courage... and be strong of soul

Make the workmanship surpass the materials.