Joy Surfeited Turns To Sorrow.

Alas, 'tis Force Alone That Can Compel To Virtuous Actions A Degenerate People.

To Err Is Human; But Contrition Felt For The Crime Distinguishes The Virtuous From The Wicked.

Necessity Inspires The Fatal Thought.

Joy Surfeited Turns To Sorrow.

There Is A Silence, The Child Of Love, Which Expresses Everything, And Proclaims More Loudly Than The Tongue Is Able To Do; There Are Movements That Are Involuntary Proofs Of What The Soul Feels.