Don't call the world dirty because you forgot to clean your glasses.
Deceit is the false road to happiness; and all the joys we travel through to vice, like fairy banquets, vanish when we touch them.
Union of hearts, not hands, does a marriage make, and sympathy of mind keeps love awake.
Birth is a shadow. Courage, self-sustained, outlords succession's phlegm, and needs no ancestors.
Let never man be bold enough to say,
Thus, and no farther shall my passion stray:
The first crime, past, compels us into more,
And guilt grows fate, that was but choice, before.
Art, however innocent, looks like deceiving.
Youth is ever apt to judge in haste, and lose the medium in the wild extreme.
Joys, which we do not know, we do not wish.
The man who pauses on the paths of treason, Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.
Letters, from absent friends, extinguish fear, Unite division, and draw distance near; Their magic force each silent wish conveys, And wafts embodied though, a thousand ways: Could souls to bodies write, death's pow'r were mean, For minds could then meet minds with heav'n between.
Let shining Charity adorn your zeal,
The noblest impulse generous minds can feel.
Mischief and malice grow on the same branch of the tree of evil.
She who means no mischief does it all.
The man with but one idea in his head is sure to exaggerate that to top-heaviness, and thus he loses his equilibrium.
First, then, a woman will, or won't, - depend on't; If she will do't, she will; and there's an end on't. But, if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront: and jealousy injustice.
Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt in soft adoption of another's sorrow.
Hide not thy tears; weep boldly, and be proud to give the flowing virtue manly way; it is nature's mark to know an honest heart by.
Law that shocks equity is reason's murderer.
Order, thou eye of action.
Shun fear, it is the ague of the soul! a passion man created for himself--for sure that cramp of nature could not dwell in the warm realms of glory.
Servile doubt argues an impotence of mind, that says we fear because we dare not meet misfortunes.
Courage is poorly housed that dwells in numbers; the lion never counts the herd that are about him, nor weighs how many flocks he has to scatter.
Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains. 'Tis the same with common natures:
Use 'em kindly, they rebel;
But be rough as nutmeg-graters,
And the rogues obey you well.
Oh, treacherous night thou lendest thy ready veil to every treason, and teeming mischief's beneath thy shade.
Customs form us all, our thoughts, our morals, our most fixed beliefs; are consequences of our place of birth.
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