Never was flattery lost on a poet's ear; a simple race, they waste their toil for the vain tribute of a smile.
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
Tears are the softening showers which cause the seed of heaven to spring up in the human heart.
A few drops sprinkled on the torch of love make the flame blaze the brighter.
Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, Easy live and quiet die.
For deadly fear can time outgo, and blanch at once the hair.