A noble cause doth ease much a grievous case.
To be rhymed to death as is said to be done in Ireland.
O sweet woods, the delight of solitariness!
Fortify courage with the true rampart of patience.
There is a certain delicacy which in yielding conquers; and with a pitiful look makes one find cause to crave help one's self.
The day seems long, but night is odious; no sleep, but dreams; no dreams but visions strange.