Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
What a deformed thief this fashion is.
There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't