The heart that is conscious of its own integrity is ever slow to credit another´s treachery. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Women govern us; let us render them perfect: the more they are enlightened, so much the more shall we be. On the… — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure you. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Justice-august and pure, the abstract idea of all that would be perfect in the spirits and the inspirations of men!-where the mind… — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
There is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as envy. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
That old man dies prematurely whose memory records no benefits conferred. They only have lived long who have lived virtuously. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
My valour is certainly going! - it is sneaking off! - I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my… — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
I hate to see prudence clinging to the green suckers of youth; 'tis like ivy round a sapling, and spoils the growth of the… — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
To smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is to become a principal in the mischief. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
I ne'er could any luster see in eyes that would not look on me. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are slow to injure. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Remember that when you meet your antagonist, to do everything in a mild agreeable manner. Let your courage be keen, but, at the same… — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Pity those whom nature abuses, never those who abuse nature. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete: damns have had their day. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
You shall see them on a beautiful quarto page where a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan Copy Share Image
