For, when with beauty we can virtue join, We paint the semblance of a form divine.
Who walks the fastest, but walks astray, is only furthest from his way.
Cured yesterday of my disease, I died last night of my physician.
Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.
And ’tis remarkable that they talk most who have the least to say.
They never taste who always drink: They always talk, who never think.
It takes two to quarrel, but only one to end it.
Be to their virtue very kind; be to their faults a little blind.
Hope is but the dream of those who wake.
The ends must justify the means.
They talk most who have the least to say.