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Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt in soft adoption of another's sorrow.

Aaron Hill

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Aaron Hill
Age: 64 †
Born: 1685
Born: February 10
Died: 1750
Died: February 8
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Another
Adoption
Cannot
Breasts
Soft
Stone
Stones
Shame
Sorrow
Tears
Melt

More quotes by Aaron Hill

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Shun fear, it is the ague of the soul! a passion man created for himself--for sure that cramp of nature could not dwell in the warm realms of glory.
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Trust me--with women worth the being won, The softest lover ever best succeeds.
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Law that shocks equity is reason's murderer.
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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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Oh, treacherous night thou lendest thy ready veil to every treason, and teeming mischief's beneath thy shade.
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Youth is ever apt to judge in haste, and lose the medium in the wild extreme.
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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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The man who pauses on the paths of treason, Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.
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Order, thou eye of action.
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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.
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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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Birth is a shadow. Courage, self-sustained, outlords succession's phlegm, and needs no ancestors.
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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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Servile doubt argues an impotence of mind, that says we fear because we dare not meet misfortunes.
Aaron Hill
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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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Mischief and malice grow on the same branch of the tree of evil.
Aaron Hill
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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.
Aaron Hill