How sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!

Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody poor. Mercy no more could be, If all were happy as we.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.

But when he has done this, let him not say that he knows better than his master, for he only holds a candle in sunshine.

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.

A tyrant is the worst disease, and the cause of all others.

Never seek to tell thy love; Love that never told can be. For the gentle wind does move silently.. invisibly.