Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,- One minute of heaven is worth them all.

Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.

The measure of choosing well, is, whether a man likes and finds good in what he has chosen.

I hate a man who swallows [his food], affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.

What have I gained by health? Intolerable dullness. What by mode meals? A total blank.

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

The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy; and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.