The path of a good woman is indeed strewn with flowers; but they rise behind her steps, not before them

Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness That even above the smiles and frowns of fate Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth That ne'er encumbers, nor can be transferr'd.

Virtue and sense are one; and, trust me, still A faithless heart betrays the head unsound.

Virtue is its own reward. There's a pleasure in doing good which sufficiently pays itself.

Most men admire virtue who follow not her lore

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would / By her own radiant light, though sun and moon / Were in the flat sea sunk.