Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.

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.

No king nor nation one moment can retard the appointed hour.

Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.

Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts

So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.

The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.