There is a time for some things, and a time for all things; a time for great things, and a time for small things.
There is a remedy for all things but death, which will be sure to lay us flat one time or other.
There are men that will make yon books, and turn them loose into the world, with as much dispatch as they would do a dish of fritters.
The very remembrance of my former misfortune proves a new one to me.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
The pen is the tongue of the mind; the thoughts that are formed in the one, and those that are traced by the other, will bear a near resemblance.
The eyes those silent tongues of love.
The ease of my burthens, the staff of my life.
The devil, who seldom lies dead in a ditch, but will have a finger in every pie.
The brave man carves out his fortune, and every man is the son of his own works.
The bow cannot always stand bent, nor can human frailty subsist without some lawful recreation.
The ass will carry his load, but not a double load; ride not a free horse to death.
