Old men, for the most part, are like old chronicles that give you dull but true accounts of times past, and are worth knowing only on that score.

Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.

The character of covetousness, is what a man generally acquires more through some niggardliness or ill grace in little and inconsiderable things, than in expenses of any consequence.

An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of piety, but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and religion; he finds it easier to be upon his knees than to rise to a good action.

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

Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.