We are so fond of hearing ourselves spoken of, that, be it good or ill, it is still pleasing.

We are never satisfied with having done well; and in endeavoring to do better, we do much worse.

I know of no sorrow greater than that occasioned by a delay of the post.

... truth ... carries authority with it; while falsehood and lies skulk under a load of words, without having the power of persuasion; the more they attempt to show themselves, the more they are entangled.

. . . this life is a perpetual chequer-work of good and evil, pleasure and pain. When in possession of what we desire, we are only so much the nearer losing it; and when at a distance from it, we live in expectation of enjoying it again.

Ah, what a grudge I owe physicians! what mummery is their art!

Long life will sometimes obscure the star of fame.