“Merely for safety, after fame we thirst, For all men would be cowards if they durst.”

“A kind of losing loadum is their game,Where the worst writer has the greatest fame.”

“After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.Let the ambitious zealot lay asideHis hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;Let slavish souls lay by their fearNor be concerned which way nor whereAfter this life they shall be hurled.Dead, we become the lumber of the world,And to that mass of matter shall be sweptWhere things destroyed with things unborn are kept.Devouring time swallows us whole.Impartial death confounds body and soul.For Hell and the foul fiend that rulesGod's everlasting fiery jails(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,Are senseless stories, idle tales,Dreams, whimseys, and no more.”

“All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on,From the hector of France to the cully of Britain.”

“any experiment of interest in life will be carried out at your own expense”

“Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories.”

“Nothing suits worse with vice than want of sense”