Who Dies In Youth And Vigour, Dies

The Only Time You Run Out Of Chances Is When You Stop Taking Them

There Should Be, Methinks, As Little Merit In Loving A Woman For Her Beauty As In Loving A Man For His Prosperity; Both Being Equally Subject To Change.

All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood; All Partial Evil, Universal Good.

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Virtue, I Grant You, Is An Empty Boast; But Shall The Dignity Of Vice Be Lost?