When I die, I should be ashamed to leave enough to build me a monument if there were a wanting friend above ground. I would enjoy the pleasure of what I give by giving it alive and seeing another enjoy it.

At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it; but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.

As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.

Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.

Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!

What is fame? a fancied life in others' breath.

The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.