Of all the paths [that] lead to a woman's love Pity's the straightest.
The true way to gain much, is never to desire to gain too much.
Let no man fear to die, we love to sleep all, and death is but the sounder sleep.
Oh, love will make a dog howl in rhyme.
Envy, like the worm, never runs but to the fairest fruit; like a cunning bloodhound, it singles out the fattest deer in the flock.
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
