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

May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

From a poor man, poor in Time, I was suddenly lifted up into a vast revenue; I could see no end of my possessions; I wanted some steward, or judicious bailiff, to manage my estates in Time for me.

He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.

Not if I know myself at all.

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