He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.

Too much to know is to know naught but fame.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.

In friendship, as in love, we are often happier through our ignorance than our knowledge.

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.

The let-alone lies not in your good will.

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.