Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, content to breathe his native air in his own ground.
To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.
But Satan now is wiser than of yore, and tempts by making rich, not making poor.
Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
We may see the small value God has for riches, by the people he gives them to.
In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost; contracted all, retiring to the breast; but strength of mind is exercise, not rest.