Beauty Without Intelligence Is Like A Hook

One Cannot But Mistrust A Prospect Of Felicity: One Must Enjoy It Before One Can Believe In It.

Malicious Men May Die, But Malice Never.

No Reason Makes It Right To Shun Accepted Ways From Stubborn Spite; And We May Better Join The Foolish Crowd Than Cling To Wisdom, Lonely Though Unbowed.

Love Is Often The Fruit Of Marriage.

Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserved Virginity, And Your Quaint Honor Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.