If our inward griefs were written on our brows, how many who are envied now would be pitied. It would seem that they had their deadliest foe in their own breast, and their whole happiness would be reduced to mere seeming.

Of all faults the greatest is the excess of impious terror, dishonoring divine grace. He who despairs wants love, wants faith; for faith, hope, and love are three torches which blend their light together, nor does the one shine without the other.

Every noble acquisition is attended with its risks; he who fears to encounter the one must not expect to obtain the other.

The bee and the serpent often sip from the selfsame flower.

If our inward griefs were written on our brows, how many who are envied now would be pitied. It would seem that they had their deadliest foe in their own breast, and their whole happiness would be reduced to mere seeming.

How full of error is the judgment of mankind! They wonder at results when they are ignorant of the reasons

If every man's internal care Were written on his brow, How many would our pity share Who raise our envy now?