The day of fortune is like a harvest day, We must be busy when the corn is ripe.
Any time not spent on love is wasted.
Love is when you don’t have to be with another person to touch their heart!
True love cannot be found where it does not exist, nor can it be denied where it does.
Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing.
None merits the name of Creator but God and the poet.
Fortune rarely accompanies anyone to the door.
Lost is the time that you don’t spend for love.
O subtle love! a thousand wiles thou hast, by humble suit, by service, or by hire, to win a maiden’s hold, – a thing soon done, for nature framed all women to be won.
Virtue’s guard is labor; ease, her sleep.
It is the fortunate who should extol fortune.
He, full of bashfulness and truth, loved much, hoped little, and desired naught.
As shaking terrors from his blazing hair, a sanguine comet gleams through dusky air.
A friend giveth sympathy in trouble.
Grave was the man in years, in looks, in word, his locks were grey, yet was his courage green.