It is in men as in soils where sometimes there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not.

Nothing is so great an instance of ill-manners as flattery.

Ever eating, never cloying, All-devouring, all-destroying Never finding full repast, Till I eat the world at last.

Religion supposed Heaven and Hell, the word of God, and sacraments, and twenty other circumstances which, taken seriously, are a wonderful check to wit and humour.

The scholars of Ireland seem not to have the least conception of style, but run on in a flat phraseology, often mingled with barbarous terms.

Such a man, truly wise, creams off Nature leaving the sour and the dregs for philosophy and reason to lap up.

Many a truth is told in jest.