A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.

When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same as last.

All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good.

When we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow old; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.

Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.

Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.

Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please, With too much spirit to be e'er at ease, With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much thinking to have common thought: You purchase pain with all that joy can give, And die of nothing but a rage to live.