Fortune, Thou Hadst No Deity,

They, Who Know No Evil, Will Suspect None.

Follow A Shadow, It Still Flies You, Seem To Fly, It Will Pursue: So Court A Mistress, She Denies You; Let Her Alone, She Will Court You. Say Are Not Women Truly, Then, Styled But The Shadows Of Us Men?

Whosoever Loves Not Picture Is Injurious To Truth, And All The Wisdom Of Poetry. Picture Is The Invention Of Heaven, The Most Ancient And Most Akin To Nature. It Is Itself A Silent Work, And Always One And The Same Habit.

I Would Rather Have A Plain Down-right Wisdom Than A Foolish And Affected Eloquence.

Peace Is Never More Than One Thought Away.