The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.

False happiness is like false money; it passes for a long time as well as the true, and serves some ordinary occasions; but when it is brought to the touch, we find the lightness and alloy, and feel the loss.

To err is human; to forgive, divine.

Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

All nature is but art unknown to thee.