Men are almost always cruel in their neighbors' faults; and make others' overthrow the badge of their own ill-masked virtue.

Take thou of me, sweet pillowes, sweetest bed; A chamber deafe of noise, and blind of light, A rosie garland and a weary hed.

Gold can gild a rotten stick, and dirt sully an ingot.

For as much as to understand and to be mighty are great qualities, the higher that they be, they are so much the less to be esteemed if goodness also abound not in the possessor.

The general goodness, which is nourished in noble hearts makes every one think that strength of virtue to be in another whereof they find assured foundation in themselves.

O sweet woods, the delight of solitariness!

They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts.