The Blackest Ink Of Fate Are Sure

The Only Source Of The True Ridiculous (as It Appears To Me) Is Affectation

Yes, I Had Two Strings To My Bow; Both Golden Ones, Egad! And Both Cracked.

To Speak A Bold Truth, I Am, After Much Mature Deliberation, Inclined To Suspect That The Public Voice Hath, In All Ages, Done Much Injustice To Fortune, And Hath Convicted Her Of Many Facts In Which She Had Not The Least Concern.

Commend A Fool For His Wit, Or A Rogue For His Honesty And He Will Receive You Into His Favour.

It Is With Jealousy As With The Gout. When Such Distempers Are In The Blood, There Is Never Any Security Against Their Breaking Out, And That Often On The Slightest Occasions, And When Least Suspected.