Laughter almost ever cometh of things most disproportioned to ourselves and nature: delight hath a joy in it either permanent or present; laughter hath only a scornful tickling.
Hope itself is a pain, while it is overmatched by fear.
Either I will find a way, or I will make one.
Misery and misfortune is all one; and of misfortune fortune hath only the gift.
Sin is the mother, and shame the daughter of lewdness.
Anger, the Stoics said, was a short madness.