Quotes from Aaron Hill

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.

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.

Oh, treacherous night thou lendest thy ready veil to every treason, and teeming mischief's beneath thy shade.

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

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.

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.

What position didn't I play last season?

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.

Union of hearts, not hands, does a marriage make, and sympathy of mind keeps love awake.

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.

Customs form us all, our thoughts, our morals, our most fixed beliefs; are consequences of our place of birth.

Reason gains all people by compelling none.

Don't call the world dirty because you forgot to clean your glasses.

Deceit is the false road to happiness; and all the joys we travel through to vice, like fairy banquets, vanish when we touch them.

Mischief and malice grow on the same branch of the tree of evil.

Youth is ever apt to judge in haste, and lose the medium in the wild extreme.

O marriage! marriage! what a curse is thine, Where hands alone consent and hearts abhor.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason, Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

Man is the circled oak; woman the ivy.

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.

Trust me--with women worth the being won, The softest lover ever best succeeds.

Art, however innocent, looks like deceiving.

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.

Birth is a shadow. Courage, self-sustained, outlords succession's phlegm, and needs no ancestors.