How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue, and most dignifies the haver.
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.
Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather.
The sense of death is most in apprehension.
My only love sprung from my only hate.