Virtue were a kind of misery if fame were all the garland that crowned her.

There is no one subsists by himself alone.

Virtue were a kind of misery if fame were all the garland that crowned her.

Some are so uncharitable as to think all women bad, and others are so credulous as to believe they are all good. All will grant her corporeal frame more wonderful and more beautiful than man's. And can we think God would put a worse soul into a better body?

Honesty is a warrant of far more safety than fame.

A sentence well couched takes both the sense and understanding. I love not those cart-rope speeches that are longer than the memory of man can fathom.

There is no belittling worse than to over praise a man.