None think the great unhappy, but the great.

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.

What is revenge but courage to call in our honor's debts, and wisdom to convert others' self-love into our own protection?

O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.

Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.

Life's cares are comforts; such by Heav'n design'd; He that hath none must make them, or be wretched.

We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!