What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.

Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.

A God alone can comprehend a God.

In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.

Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees

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.