Nor has his death the world deceiv'd than his wondrous life surprise d; if he like a madman liv'd least he like a wise one dy'd.

Well, now there's a remedy for everything except death.

Every man is the son of his own works.

Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be.

Never meddle with play-actors, for they're a favoured race.

We are all as God made us and frequently much worse.

My heart is wax molded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to retain.