The heavier crop is ever in others' fields.
Often they benefit who suffer wrong.
He who would not be idle, let him fall in love.
No man can purchase his virtue too dear, for it is the only thing whose value must ever increase with the price it has cost us. Our integrity is never worth so much as when we have parted with our all to keep it.
Take rest; a field that has rested gives a beautiful crop.
Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.