Since life itself is uncertain, nothing which has life for its basis can boast much stability.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.
Employment and hardships prevent melancholy.
Truth, Sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull.
The joy of life is variety.
Cowardice encroaches fast upon such as spend their lives in company of persons higher than themselves.