John Dryden

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.

Successful crimes alone are justified.

Honor is but an empty bubble.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Love works a different way in different minds, the fool it enlightens and the wise it blinds.

Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.

But love's a malady without a cure.

Love is not in our choice but in our fate.

You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.

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

And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.

Love is love's reward.