“The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.”

He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Infinite riches in a little room.

Blood is the god of war’s rich livery.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?

While money doesn’t buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.

Accurst be he that first invented war.

What feeds me destroys me.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

Had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistopheles!

Who hateth me but for my happiness? Or who is honored now but for his wealth? Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?

That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.

There is no sin but ignorance.

All live to die, and rise to fall.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

The grief we carry is part of the grief of the world. Hold it gently. Let it be honored. You do not have to keep it in anymore. You can let go into the heart of compassion; you can weep.

There are griefs which grow with years.

Beware the easy griefs / that fool and fuel nothing.

Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.

Fretting grief the enemy of life.

Music, such music, is a sufficient gift. Why ask for happiness; why hope not to grieve? It is enough, it is to be blessed enough, to live from day to day and to hear such music-not too much, or the soul could not sustain it-from time to time.

One flesh they are; and one flesh, so I’d guess, Has but one heart, come grief or happiness.

There are two things at which most men are grieved: when their faults are exposed, and when their virtues are concealed.