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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.

Aaron Hill

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Aaron Hill
Age: 64 †
Born: 1685
Born: February 10
Died: 1750
Died: February 8
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Nature
Weep
Give
Flowing
Giving
Hide
Heart
Mark
Way
Tears
Proud
Honest
Boldly
Virtue
Manly

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Law that shocks equity is reason's murderer.
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Trust me--with women worth the being won, The softest lover ever best succeeds.
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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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Deceit is the false road to happiness and all the joys we travel through to vice, like fairy banquets, vanish when we touch them.
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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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The man with but one idea in his head is sure to exaggerate that to top-heaviness, and thus he loses his equilibrium.
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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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Order, thou eye of action.
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Reason gains all people by compelling none.
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Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt in soft adoption of another's sorrow.
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Let shining Charity adorn your zeal, The noblest impulse generous minds can feel.
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Joys, which we do not know, we do not wish.
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She who means no mischief does it all.
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Youth is ever apt to judge in haste, and lose the medium in the wild extreme.
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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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O marriage! marriage! what a curse is thine, Where hands alone consent and hearts abhor.
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There is no merit where there is no trial and till experience stamps the mark of strength, cowards may pass for heroes, and faith for falsehood.
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The man who pauses on the paths of treason, Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.
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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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Art, however innocent, looks like deceiving.
Aaron Hill