Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?
He sins against this life, who slights the next.
What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
The soul of man was made to walk the skies.
There is nothing of which men are more liberal than their good advice, be their stock of it ever so small; because it seems to carry in it an intimation of their own influence, importance or worth.