Gold--the picklock that never fails.
Death hath a thousand doors to let out life.
We have not an hour of life in which our pleasures relish not some pain, our sours, some sweetness.
He is not valiant that dares lie; but he that boldly bears calamity.
Revenge, that thirsty dropsy of our souls, makes us covet that which hurts us most.
Virtue, thou in rags, may challenge more than vice set off with all the trim of greatness.