Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.

These are the effects of doting age,--vain doubts and idle cares and over caution.

Few know the use of life before 'tis past.

Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after pain.

For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.

If by the people you understand the multitude, the hoi polloi, 'tis no matter what they think; they are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong; their judgment is a mere lottery.

There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.