Fair words cost nothing.
Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.
Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.
I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waves, in silence sleep!
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.