To doubt is worse than to have lost; And to despair is but to antedate those miseries that must fall on us.
A willing mind makes a hard journey easy.
True dignity is never gained by place, and never lost when honors are withdrawn....
Be wise; soar not too high to fall; but stoop to rise.
Man was mark'd
A friend in his creation to himself,
And may, with fit ambition, conceive
The greatest blessings, and the highest honors
Appointed for him, if he can achieve them
The right and noble way.
Patience, the beggar's virtue, shall find no harbor here.
We have not an hour of life in which our pleasures relish not some pain, our sours, some sweetness.
You may boldly say, you did not plough Or trust the barren and ungrateful sands With the fruitful grain of your religious counsels.
A diamond, though set in horns, is still a diamond, and sparkles in purest gold.
If you like not hanging, drown yourself; Take some course for your reputation.
Oh that thou hadst like others been all words, And no performance.
Shall this nectar Run useless, then, to waste? or ... these lips, That open like the morn, breathing perfumes, On such as dare approach them, be untouch'd? They must--nay, 'tis in vain to make resistance-- Be often kissed and tasted.
Nor custom, nor example, nor cast numbers Of such as do offend, make less the sin.
Pleasures of worse natures Are gladly entertained, and they that shun us Practice in private sports the stews would blush at.
Greatness, with private men Esteem'd a blessing, is to me a curse; And we, whom, for our high births, they conclude The happy freemen, are the only slaves. Happy the golden mean!
Virgin me no virgins! I must have you lose that name, or you lose me.
It is true fortitude to stand firm against
All shocks of fate, when cowards faint and die
In fear to suffer more calamity.
What a seaOf melting ice I walk on!
Their promises, but those obtained, weak pigmies
In their performance.
Ill news are swallow-winged, but what is good walks on crutches.
Gold--the picklock that never fails.
I have play'd the fool, the gross fool, to believe The bosom of a friend will hold a secret Mine own could not contain.
And, to all married men, be this a caution, Which they should duly tender as their life, Neither to doat too much, nor doubt a wife.
My dancing days are past.
He that would govern others, first should be the master of himself.
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