I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
The present is an eternal now.
Hope! fortune's cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
The world's a scene of changes.