Few tyrants go down to the infernal regions by a natural death.

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.

Of the woes Of unhappy poverty, none is more difficult to bear Than that it heaps men with ridicule.

Only death reveals what a nothing the body of man is.

The arrows are from her dowry.

Many have an irresistible itch for writing.

Make all fair allowance for the mistakes of youth.