“Repentance is but want of power to sin.”

And that the Scriptures, though not everywhere Free from corruption, or entire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire In all things which our needful faith require.

Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.

Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate’s: Souls know no conquerors.

Love is love’s reward.

Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.

There is a proud modesty in merit.

All empire is no more than power in trust.

The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.

Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.

The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.

Faith is to believe what you do not yet see: the reward for this faith is to see what you believe. Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.

He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

Old age creeps on us where we think it night.

Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows.

Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.