The sight of blood to crowds begets the thirst of more, As the first wine-cup leads to the long revel.

I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

Hatred is the madness of the heart.

No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

I die but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.

It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe; you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.