There's only one truth about war: people die.

I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.

There is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as envy.

Nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty; now, there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

In all cases of slander currency, whenever the forger of the lie is not to be found, the injured parties should have a right to come on any of the indorsers.

The heart that is conscious of its own integrity is ever slow to credit another´s treachery.

I was struck all on a heap.