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

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.

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.

But love’s a malady without a cure.

We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.

I am resolved to grow fat and look young till forty, and then slip out of the world with the first wrinkle and the reputation of five-and-twenty.

There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.

None are so busy as the fool and the knave.

Pains of love be sweeter far than all other pleasures are.

He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.

Music soothes my savage beast. I got a beast in me running wild.

What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?

We’re not savages. We’re English.

No nation, savage or civilized, save only the United States of America, has confessed its inability to protect its women save by hanging, shooting, and burning alleged offenders

Of all our infirmities, the most savage is to despise our being.

I’m sure you’re very nice, but you’d be even nicer if you went away.

There is a savagery to what you feel. It eats you up inside. But you will get through it; you don’t need his mouth to placate you. You don’t need his hands to untangle the butterfly knot in your heart. Your love is a fire that will burn itself out. Let it ravage you.

There are very few people who are going to look into the mirror and say, ‘That person I see is a savage monster;’ instead, they make up some construction that justifies what they do.