The eyes of a man in the jaundice make yellow observations on everything; and the soul tinctured with any passion diffuses a false color over the appearance of things.

So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns; And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain.

Nothing tends so much to enlarge the mind as traveling.

Poesy and oratory omit things not essential, and insert little beautiful digressions, in order to place everything in the most effective light.

Dear Lord. I give myself away. I've nothing else to give.

Two sentiments alone suffice for man, were he to live the age of the rocks - love, and the contemplation of the Deity.

Every one of his opinions appears to himself to be written with sunbeams.