What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances

I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.

Death is a sleep that ends our dreaming. Oh, that we may be allowed to wake before death wakes us.

How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.

I have taken pride in others, never in myself.

He loves but lightly who his love can tell.

Events appear sad, pleasant, or painful, not because they are so in reality, but because we believe them to be so and the light in which we look at them depends upon our own judgment.