A Contented Mind Is The Greatest Blessing

I Should Think Myself A Very Bad Woman, If I Had Done What I Do For A Farthing Less.

Wit Is The Fetching Of Congruity Out Of Incongruity.

There Is Not A More Melancholy Object Than A Man Who Has His Head Turned With Religious Enthusiasm.

The Woman That Deliberates Is Lost.

The Intelligence Of Affection Is Carried On By The Eye Only; Good-breeding Has Made The Tongue Falsify The Heart, And Act A Part Of Continued Restraint, While Nature Has Preserved The Eyes To Herself, That She May Not Be Disguised Or Misrepresented.