Life's cares are comforts; such by Heav'n design'd; He that hath none must make them, or be wretched.
Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
The person of wisdom is the person of years.
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.
With fame, in just proportion, envy grows.