Fear Is Far More Painful To Cowardice

I Am No Herald To Inquire Into Men's Pedigree; It Sufficeth Me If I Know Their Virtues.

O Sweet Woods, The Delight Of Solitariness!

Woman Was Formed To Admire; Man To Be Admirable. His Are The Glories Of The Sun At Noonday; Hers The Softened Splendors Of The Midnight Moon.

The Journey Of High Honor Lies Not In Smooth Ways.

Laughter Almost Ever Cometh Of Things Most Disproportioned To Ourselves And Nature: Delight Hath A Joy In It Either Permanent Or Present; Laughter Hath Only A Scornful Tickling.