He is not worthy of the honey-comb, that shuns the hives because the bees have stings.

Barnes are blessings.

If thou remeber'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not lov'd

I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.

Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.

Lend less than you owe.

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.