And touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 47.

A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian,

Who left scarcely any style of writing untouched,

And touched nothing that he did not adorn.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784): Epitaph on Goldsmith.

Thyself and thy belongings

Are not thine own so proper as to waste

Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.

Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,

Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues

Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd

But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends

The smallest scruple of her excellence

But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines

Herself the glory of a creditor,

Both thanks and use.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1.

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness;

And from that full meridian of my glory

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall

Like a bright exhalation in the evening,

And no man see me more.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.