“Sweet is pleasure after pain.”

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.

But when to sin our biased nature leans, The careful Devil is still at hand with means; And providently pimps for ill desires.

Time glides with undiscover’d haste; The future but a length behind the past.

Self-defense is Nature’s eldest law.

Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.

So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.

Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.

But Shakespeare’s magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.

No government has ever been, or can ever be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost.

Every language is so full of its own proprieties that what is beautiful in one is often barbarous, nay, sometimes nonsense, in another.

I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.

If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!

So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.

He who would search for pearls must dive below.

Life itself, when understood and utilized for what it is, is sweet.

Paul is Starsky, and I met him before shooting. He was very kind and encouraged us to go with what we wanted to do. It was very sweet to see them back with the car after 25 years.

The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.

Tis no sin love’s fruits to steal; But the sweet thefts to reveal; To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been.

Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

Sweet meat must have sour sauce.

Children come running to the truth But you’ve got to peel the skin to get the fruit And while one’s living high another’s grieving But what’s sweet by morning is bitter by the evening Oh – What’s sweet by morning is bitter by the evening.

In the hope to meet Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.