A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!
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.
Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.