Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest.
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
Such as are still observing upon others are like those who are always abroad at other men's houses, reforming everything there while their own runs to ruin.
Fondly we think we honor merit then, when we but praise ourselves in other men.
We may see the small value God has for riches, by the people he gives them to.
Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.