The mind is ever ingenious in making its own distress.

For just experience tells, in every soil, That those that think must govern those that toil.

I love everything that's old, - old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine.

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?

Honour sinks where commerce long prevails.

The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.

As ten millions of circles can never make a square, so the united voice of myriads cannot lend the smallest foundation to falsehood.