O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
Too nice, and yet too true!
Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth
Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.