I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

What some call health, if purchased by perpetual anxiety about diet, isn't much better than tedious disease.

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.

Mankind is unamendable.

Fine sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as common sense.

To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.

Men would be angels, angels would be gods.