Piety practiced in solitude, like the flower that blooms in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of heaven, and delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendor of beneficence.

In Shakespeare's plays, the mourner hastening to bury his friend is all the time colliding with the reveller hastening to his wine.

Wine gives a man nothing... it only puts in motion what had been locked up in frost.

How few of his friends' houses would a man choose to be at when he is sick.

Surely, it is much easier to respect a man who has always had respect, than to respect a man who we know was last year no better than ourselves, and will be no better next year.

I had done all that I could, and no Man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

Happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness.