To persist in doing wrong extenuates not the wrong, but makes it much more heavy.
I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.