Lord Bacon Makes Beauty To Consist Of

... If It Were The Fashion To Go Naked, The Face Would Be Hardly Observed.

Solitude Begets Whimsies.

And We Meet, With Champagne And A Chicken, At Last.

I Hate The Noise And Hurry Inseparable From Great Estates And Titles, And Look Upon Both As Blessings That Ought Only To Be Given To Fools, For 'tis Only To Them That They Are Blessings.

I Believe More Follies Are Committed Out Of Complaisance To The World, Than In Following Our Own Inclinations.