The greatest advantage I know of being thought a wit by the world is, that it gives one the greater freedom of playing the fool.

All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye that habitually compares everything to something better. But by changing that habit to comparing everything to something worse, even making it a game, that person can find gratitude, relief and happiness where-ever they go and whatever they experience, guaranteed!

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

Is not absence death to those who love?

What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!

Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.

Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.