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Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good.

Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.

Luck is the residue of design.

Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep...

No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.

None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but licence.

Nothing profits more than self-esteem, grounded on what is just and right.

Our state cannot be severed, we are one. One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life.