Talk not of love: thou never knew'st its force. - Joseph Addison

Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripened beauties of the north.

When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow;

I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.