Every one who repeats it adds something to the scandal. [The rolling snow-ball.]

Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these.

Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.

Remove the temptation of idleness and Cupid's bow is useless.

Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?

Nothing retains its form; new shapes from old. Nature, the great inventor, ceaselessly contrives. In all creation, be assured, there is no death - no death, but only change and innovation; what we men call birth is but a different new beginning; death is but to cease to be the same. Perhaps this may have moved to that, and that to this, yet still the sum of things remains the same.

When the character's right, looks are a greater delight.