But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day; Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
Ill fortune seldom comes alone.
A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a bare hanging; but to makea malefactordiesweetly was only belonging toher husband.
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
Home is the sacred refuge of our life.
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state.
…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found; 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: Now take the mould; now bend thy mind to feel The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.
When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!
Seek not to know what must not be reveal, for joy only flows where fate is most concealed. A busy person would find their sorrows much more; if future fortunes were known before!
To die is landing on some distant shore.
Government itself at length must fall To nature's state, where all have right to all.
The greater part performed achieves the less.
For my part, I can compare her (a gossip) to nothing but the sun; for, like him, she knows no rest, nor ever sets in one place but to rise in another.
Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.
I maintain, against the enemies of the stage, that patterns of piety, decently represented, may second the precepts.
Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
Ill writers are usually the sharpest censors.
God has endowed man with inalienable rights, among which are self-government, reason, and conscience. Man is properly self-governed only when he is guided rightly and governed by his Maker, divine Truth and Love.
The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.
The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
Tis Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.
Criticism, as it was first instituted by Aristotle, was meant as a standard of judging well; the chiefest part of which is to observe those excellencies which delight a reasonable reader.
Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.
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