He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.
Great talent has always a little madness mixed up with it.
Art thou a friend to Roderick?
Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.
Chess is a sad waste of brains.
A good deal of philanthropy arises in general from mere vanity and love of distinction gilded over to others and to themselves with some show of benevolent sentiment.