Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
Good words are better than bad strokes.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followed.