Wit is the salt of conversation, not the food.
Every man, in his own opinion, forms an exception to the ordinary rules of morality.
There are names written in her immortal scroll at which Fame blushes!
Every man, in judging of himself, is his own contemporary. He may feel the gale of popularity, but he cannot tell how long it will last. His opinion of himself wants distance, wants time, wants numbers, to set it off and confirm it.
I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company enough for me
Charity, like nature, abhors a vacuum. Next to putting it in a bank, men like to squander their superfluous wealth on those to whom it is sure to be doing the least possible good.