Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
Love's but the frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined; A sickly flame, which if not fed expires; And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.
He who closes his ears to the views of others shows little confidence in the integrity of his own views.
Fear comes from uncertainty. When we are absolutely certain, whether of our worth or worthlessness, we are almost impervious to fear.
But say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave us, is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old, because we one day must be old.
A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
Never go to bed angry, stay up and fight.
Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
O ay, letters - I had letters - I am persecuted with letters - I hate letters - nobody knows how to write letters; and yet one has 'em, one does not know why - they serve one to pin up one's hair.
There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
One minute gives invention to destroy; What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.
How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.
Honor is a public enemy, and conscience a domestic, and he that would secure his pleasure, must pay a tribute to one and go halves with t'other.
Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
Turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but a poet; for a poet is worse, more servile, timorous and fawning than any I have named.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends