A mighty pain to love it is,And ‘t is a pain that pain to miss;But of all pains, the greatest painIt is to love, but love in vain.
May I a small house and large garden have;And a few friends,And many books, both true.
What shall I do to be for ever known,And make the age to come my own?
The world’s a scene of changes and to be constant in nature is inconstancy.
This only grant me that my means may lie too low for envy for contempt too high.
Acquaintance I would have but when it depends not on the number but the choice of friends.
God the first garden made and the first city Cain.
Gold begets in brethren hate Gold in families debate Gold does friendship separate Gold does civil wars create.
A mighty pain to love it is and ’tis a pain that pain to miss but of all pains the greatest pain it is to love but love in vain.
Hope! of all ills that men endure The only cheap and universal cure.
Hope! Of all the ills that men endure the only cheap and universal cure.
Enjoy the present hour Be thankful for the past And neither fear nor wish Th’ approaches of the last.
But what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.