“Love is a passion Which kindles honor into noble acts.”

The winds are out of breath.

The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind’s great bribe.

Politicians neither love nor hate.

Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.

As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.

Railing and praising were his usual themes; and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.

Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.

More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.

God never made his work for man to mend.

Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.

There’s a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.

Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.

Repentance is but want of power to sin.

The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.

Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.