The best things carried to excess are wrong.

By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest.

With various readings stored his empty skull, Learn'd without sense, and venerably dull.

A joke's a very serious thing.

The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.

Those who would make us feel must feel themselves.