Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade, The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
The same ambition can destroy or save, and make a patriot as it makes a knave.
Tis all in vain to keep a constant pother About one vice and fall into another.
Wit is the lowest form of humor.
True self-love and social are the same.
Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
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