Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul Yet uncorrected of the higher will, So that men sometimes in their dreams confess An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; -Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin In missing each that salutory rein Of reason, and the grinding will of man.

All just laws condemn cruelty.

Our treasures trifles seem, and all our life is dreaming, and the dreams themselves are dreams.

For man's greatest crime is to have been born.

Tis not where we lie but whence we fell; the loss of Heaven's the greatest pain in Hell.

The fox is very cunning, but he is more cunning who catches the fox.

At the point when affection is not frenzy, it is not adore.