As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set; Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.

Old men love novelties; the last arriv'd Still pleases best; the youngest steals their smiles.

A death-bed's a detector of the heart.

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.

They only babble who practise not reflection

As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.

By all means use some time to be alone.