At seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest.
To buried merit rise the tardy bust.
In all political regulations, good cannot be complete, it can only be predominant.
But to the particular species of excellence men are directed, not by an ascendant planet or predominating humour, but by the first book which they read, some early conversation which they heard, or some accident which excited ardour and emulation.
Nature never gives everything at once.
All power of fancy over reason is a degree of madness.