Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves.

There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.

A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.

Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told.

It is not night when I do see your face.