What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.
Steady of heart and stout of hand.
Treason seldom dwells with courage.
Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
Call it not vain: they do not err Who say that when the poet dies Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies.
It is a great disgrace to religion, to imagine that it is an enemy to mirth and cheerfulness, and a severe exacter of pensive looks and solemn faces.