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The man with but one idea in his head is sure to exaggerate that to top-heaviness, and thus he loses his equilibrium.

Aaron Hill

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Aaron Hill
Age: 64 †
Born: 1685
Born: February 10
Died: 1750
Died: February 8
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Sure
Idea
Ideas
Heaviness
Men
Exaggerate
Equilibrium
Thus
Loses
Head

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Youth is ever apt to judge in haste, and lose the medium in the wild extreme.
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Servile doubt argues an impotence of mind, that says we fear because we dare not meet misfortunes.
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Oh, treacherous night thou lendest thy ready veil to every treason, and teeming mischief's beneath thy shade.
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Hide not thy tears weep boldly, and be proud to give the flowing virtue manly way it is nature's mark to know an honest heart by.
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Let never man be bold enough to say, Thus, and no farther shall my passion stray: The first crime, past, compels us into more, And guilt grows fate, that was but choice, before.
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Birth is a shadow. Courage, self-sustained, outlords succession's phlegm, and needs no ancestors.
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Trust me--with women worth the being won, The softest lover ever best succeeds.
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Art, however innocent, looks like deceiving.
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O marriage! marriage! what a curse is thine, Where hands alone consent and hearts abhor.
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She who means no mischief does it all.
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First, then, a woman will, or won't, - depend on't If she will do't, she will and there's an end on't. But, if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront: and jealousy injustice.
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Joys, which we do not know, we do not wish.
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Courage is poorly housed that dwells in numbers the lion never counts the herd that are about him, nor weighs how many flocks he has to scatter.
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Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains. 'Tis the same with common natures: Use 'em kindly, they rebel But be rough as nutmeg-graters, And the rogues obey you well.
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Mischief and malice grow on the same branch of the tree of evil.
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When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine, Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine, See! cry'd they while, in red'ning tide, it gush'd, The bashful stream hath seen its God and blush'd.
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Man is the circled oak woman the ivy.
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Law that shocks equity is reason's murderer.
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Customs form us all, our thoughts, our morals, our most fixed beliefs are consequences of our place of birth.
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Reason gains all people by compelling none.
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