Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
Thou unfit for any place but hell.
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step
In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.
There should be hours for necessities, not for delights; times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.