Art Is Indeed Not The Bread But

It Is Easier And Handier For Men To Flatter Than To Praise.

How Narrow Our Souls Become When Absorbed In Any Present Good Or Ill! It Is Only The Thought Of The Future That Makes Them Great.

Variety Of Mere Nothings Gives More Pleasure Than Uniformity Of Something.

With So Many Thousand Joys, Is It Not Black Ingratitude To Call The World A Place Of Sorrow And Torment?

As A Man Grows Older It Is Harder And Harder To Frighten Him.