We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
Reason to rule but mercy to forgive The first is the law, the last prerogative.
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.
Love is love's reward.
All human things are subject to decay,And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obeyThis Flecknoe found, who like Augustus youngWas call'd to empire, and had govern'd longIn prose and verse, was own'd, without disputeThrough all the realms of nonsense, absolute.
Beware the fury of a patient man.
The people have a right supremeTo make their kings, for Kings are made for them.All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust,Which when resum'd, can be no longer just.Successionm for the general good design'd,In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little and who talk too much.
Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.
A mob is the scum that rises upmost when the nation boils.
Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are.
Look around the habitable world, how few Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue.
The gates of Hell are open night and day Smooth the descent, and easy is the way But, to return, and view the cheerful skies In this, the task and mighty labor lies.
How can finite grasp infinity
Death in itself is nothing but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; And every little absence is an age
Every age has a kind of universal genius, which includes those that live in it to some particular studies
The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.
For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
All heiresses are beautiful
They can conquer who believe they can