One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love.
Give me, kind heaven, a private station, a mind serene for contemplation.
Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
Whoever heard a man of fortune in England talk of the necessaries of life? . . . Whether we can afford it or no, we must have superfluities.
No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.