There is nothing so unpardonable as to consent to a senseless, aimless, purposeless life.
Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
Thought is the soul of act.
Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.
Though Rome's gross yoke Drops off, no more to be endured, Her teaching is not so obscured By errors and perversities, That no truth shines athwart the lies.