The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.
Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
Beauty is nature’s brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship.
Consider first, that great or bright infers not excellence.
They who have put out the people’s eyes reproach them of their blindness.
To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.
To live a life half dead, a living death.
To be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering.
Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.
And God made two great lights, great for their use To man, the greater to have rule by day, The less by night...
Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.
The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.