“O! How vain and vile a passion is this fear! What base uncomely things it makes men do.”

And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sow’d them with her odorous foot.

Out of clothes out of countenance, out of countenance out of wit.

I see compassion may become a justice, though it be a weakness, I confess, and nearer a vice than a virtue.

You learn nothing about someone by the way they win the fight, you learn everything about the way they lose and keep coming back.

Get money, still get money, boy, no matter by what means.

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