Posterity shall know of me even less than I shall know of posterity.

When the enterprising burglar isn't burgling; When the cut-throat isn't occupied in crime; He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling; And listen to the merry village chime.

The idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone, All centuries but this, and every country but his own.

Oh, wouldn't the world seem dull and flat with nothing whatever to grumble at?

When every blessed thing you have is made of silver, or of gold, you long for simple pewter.

Spurn not the nobly born with love affected; nor treat with virtuous scorn the well connected.

Man is nature's sole mistake.