Where evil habits are once settled, they are more easily broken than mended.
In a crowd, on a journey, at a banquet even, a line of thought can itself provide its own seclusion.
The learned understand the reason of art; the unlearned feel the pleasure.
Our minds are like our stomaches; they are whetted by the change of their food, and variety supplies both with fresh appetite.
Nothing can be pleasing which is not also becoming.
When defeat is inevitable, it is wisest to yield.