“My latest found, Heaven’s last, best gift, my ever new delight!”

Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.

God made thee perfect, not immutable.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.

You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It’s all in the mind.

For liberty hath a sharp and double edge, fit only to be handled by just and virtuous men; to bad and dissolute, it becomes a mischief unwieldy in their own hands.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

And feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce.

Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other’s burden.

Apt words have power to suage the tumors of a troubled mind.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.

Infinity is a dark illimitable ocean, without bound.