“A valiant man Ought not to undergo, or tempt a danger, But worthily, and by selected ways, He undertakes with reason, not by chance. His valor is the salt t’ his other virtues, They’re all unseason’d without it.”

We are persons of quality, I assure you, and women of fashion, and come to see and to be seen.

Passions are spiritual rebels and raise sedition against the understanding.

To speak and to speak well are two things. A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.

God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf: To him man’s dearer than to himself.

Let those that merely talk and never think, That live in the wild anarchy of drink

It is as great a spite to be praised in the wrong place, and by a wrong person, as can be done to a noble nature.

I have no urns, no dusty monuments; No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose; no forged tales Of long descents, to boast false honors from.

To men pressed by their wants all change is ever welcome.

There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear.

He was not of an age, but for all time!

I have been at my book; and am now past the craggy paths of study, and come to the flowery plains of honour and reputation

Vice Is like a fury to the vicious mind, And turns delight itself to punishment.

I have discovered that a famed familiarity in great ones is a note of certain usurpation on the less; for great and popular men feign themselves to be servants to others to make those slaves to them.

I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t’inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul; lest it be thought the breath Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee.

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.

Whom hatred frights, let him not dream of sovereignty.

Now the great winds shoreward blow Now the salt tides seaward flow Now the wild white horses play Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

I give forgiveness like salt and pepper in a restaurant – Turn my world upside down and it’ll pour out of me, flowing freely, until I’m empty.

In the end the salt calls the ocean home; and I guess this is why drowning has always been a part of loving you.

Salt is white and pure – there is something holy in salt.

To survive is to drag yourself from the water and forget what it is to swallow salt.

True love should give you the taste of sugar on your lips, and not the salty aftertaste of tears.

Salt is born of the purest parents: the sun and the sea.

There must be something strangely sacred about salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.