A farce is that in poetry which grotesque (caricature) is in painting. The persons and actions of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false, that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind; and grotesque painting is the just resemblance of this.

Arts and sciences in one and the same century have arrived at great perfection; and no wonder, since every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies; the work then, being pushed on by many hands, must go forward.

No government has ever been, or can ever be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.

That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, contains the shoring treasure of a soul resolved and brave.

The winds are out of breath.