In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost; contracted all, retiring to the breast; but strength of mind is exercise, not rest.
The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them
I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
This long disease, my life.
Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.