One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.
The ruling passion, be it what it will. The ruling passion conquers reason still.
Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear; 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.
In faith and hope the world will disagree, but all mankind's concern is charity.
When we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow old; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.