O let me be undone the common way, And have the common comfort to be pity'd, And not be ruin'd in the mask of bliss, And so be envy'd, and be wretched too!
Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one; All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Affliction is a good man's shining time.
The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done