When two people compliment each other with the choice of anything, each of them generally gets that which he likes least.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.

Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore; full well they merit all they feel, and more: unaw by precepts, human or divine, like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join.

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

And die of nothing but a rage to live.

We may see the small value God has for riches, by the people he gives them to.

A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.