Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country.

Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!

If there's a power above us, he must delight in virtue.

One's outlook is a part of his virtue.

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

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.

Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed.

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set.

Virtue alone is the unerring sign of a noble soul.

What shame keeps its watch, virtue is not wholly extinguished in the heart.

Virtue is not malicious; wrong done her Is righted even when men grant they err.

That which leads us to the performance of duty by offering pleasure as its reward, is not virtue, but a deceptive copy and imitation of virtue.

Honor is the reward of virtue.

Fewer possess virtue, than those who wish us to believe that they possess it.

The more virtuous any man is, the less easily does he suspect others to be vicious.

It is the stain and disgrace of the age to envy virtue, and to be anxious to crush the very flower of dignity.

In the approach to virtue there are many steps.

Virtue is a habit of the mind, consistent with nature and moderation and reason.

Virtue is indeed its own reward.

Virtue when concealed is a worthless thing.