This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion given The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, Theres nothing true but Heaven.

I allow no hot-beds in the gardens of Parnassus.

I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense, and to have nonsense respected.

Go where glory waits thee! But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!

Damn the age. I'll write for antiquity.

Man is a gaming animal.