You may build castles in the air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean, and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, or can be true to his wife, or ever was, or will be so.

Virtue is its own reward. There's a pleasure in doing good which sufficiently pays itself.

True virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsic worth about it.

When debtors once have borrowed all we have to lend, they are very apt to grow shy of their creditors' company.

Friendship's said to be a plant of tedious growth, its root composed of tender fibers, nice in their taste, cautious in spreading.

We gentlemen, whose chariot's roll only upon the four aces, are apt to have a wheel out of order.

The want of a thing is perplexing enough, but the possession of it, is intolerable.