Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.