Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul Yet uncorrected of the higher will, So that men sometimes in their dreams confess An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; -Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin In missing each that salutory rein Of reason, and the grinding will of man.

Grief has been compared to a hydra; for every one that dies, two are born.

If a pretty woman only knew how anger improved her beauty! Her complexion needs no other paint than indignation.

For man's greatest crime is to have been born.

The dower of great beauty has always been misfortune, since happiness and beauty do not agree together.

A friar who asks alms for God's sake begs for two.

Our treasures trifles seem, and all our life is dreaming, and the dreams themselves are dreams.