Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.
Honesty needs no disguise nor ornament; be plain.
Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; Angels are painted fair to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Children blessings seem, but torments are.
Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labor to overcome the cloud that loads em.