Fame, like the river, is narrowest where it is bred, and broadest afar off.
All slander must still be strangled in its birth, or time will soon conspire to make it strong enough to overcome the truth.
How beautiful is sorrow when it is dressed by virgin innocence! it makes felicity in others seem deformed.
Honor is the moral conscience of the great.
All jealousy must be strangled in its birth.
What one cannot, another can.