William Congreve quotes
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
Grief walks upon the heels of pleasure; married in haste, we repent at leisure.
I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
I know that's a secret, for it's whispered every where.
If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me.
Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, and black despair succeeds brown study.
Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
Never go to bed angry, stay up and fight.
They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
'Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.