It is difficult not to write satire.
Of the woes Of unhappy poverty, none is more difficult to bear Than that it heaps men with ridicule.
It is sheer madness to live in want in order to be wealthy when you die.
There will he nothing more that posterity can add to our immoral habits; our descendants must have the same desires and act the same follies as their sires. Every vice has reached its zenith.
Lost money is bewailed with deeper sighs Than friends, or kindred, and with louder cries.
Nature and wisdom always say the same.