He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
Man wants but little, nor that little long; How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.