Such labored nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze the unlearned, and make the learned smile. The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still. The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on. To be angry, is to revenge the fault of others upon ourselves. To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense, is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
Truth needs no flowers of speech.
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, Whilst drinking deeply sobers it again.