I do not know that ever I desired anything earnestly in my life but 'twas denied me, and I am many times afraid to wish a thing merely lest my fortune should take that occasion to use me ill.

But 'tis a sad thing that all one's happiness is only that the world does not know you are miserable.

I find so many things to fear and so few to hope.

Will the kindness of this letter excuse the shortness of it?

Tis an admirable thing to see how some people will labour to find out terms that may obscure a plain sense, like a gentleman I knew, who would never say 'the weather grew cold,' but that 'winter begins to salute us.' I have no patience for such coxcombs.

All letters, methinks, should be free and easy as one's discourse, not studied, as an oration, nor made up of hard words like a charm.

Surfeits kill more than fasting does.