Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
Virtue alone has majesty in death.
A man I knew who lived upon a smile, And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair, While rankest venom foam'd through every vein.
Who knows if Shakespeare might not have thought less if he had read more?
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
If we did but know how little some enjoy of the great things that they possess, there would not be much envy in the world.