Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
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.
Genius is of no country.
A joke's a very serious thing.
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
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.