Repartee is the soul of conversation.

What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?

Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son.

Heaven be thanked, we live in such an age, When no man dies for love, but on the stage.

Seek not to know what must not be reveal, for joy only flows where fate is most concealed. A busy person would find their sorrows much more; if future fortunes were known before!

Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.

And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's Ark.