Our pleasures are short, and can only charm at intervals; love is a method of protraction our greatest pleasure.

And learn the luxury of doing good.

Quality and title have such allurements that hundreds are ready to give up all their own importance, to cringe, to flatter, to look little, and to pall every pleasure in constraint, merely to be among the great, though without the least hopes of improving their understanding or sharing their generosity. They might be happier among their equals.

A traveler of taste will notice that the wise are polite all over the world, but the fool only at home.

If the soul be happily disposed, every thing becomes capable of affording entertainment, and distress will almost want a name.

You will always find that those are most apt to boast of national merit, who have little or not merit of their own to depend on . . .

When lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, what charm can soothe her melancholy, what art can wash her guilt away?