“It hath been often said, that it is not death, but dying, which is terrible.”

We are as liable to be corrupted by books, as by companions.

Giving comfort under affliction requires that penetration into the human mind, joined to that experience which knows how to soothe, how to reason, and how to ridicule; taking the utmost care never to apply those arts improperly.

Make money your god, and it will plague you like the devil.

I am content; that is a blessing greater than riches; and he to whom that is given need ask no more.

Public schools are the nurseries of all vice and immorality.

When I mention religion I mean the Christian religion; and not only the Christian religion, but the Protestant religion; and not only the Protestant religion, but the Church of England.

The slander of some people is as great a recommendation as the praise of others.

It is not from nature, but from education and habits, that our wants are chiefly derived.

A lottery is a taxation on all of the fools in creation.

Money will say more in one moment than the most eloquent lover can in years.

There is no zeal blinder than that which is inspired with a love of justice against offenders.

Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.

Human life very much resembles a game of chess: for, as in the latter, while a gamester is too attentive to secure himself very strongly on one side of the board, he is apt to leave an unguarded opening on the other, so doth it often happen in life.

Neither great poverty nor great riches will hear reason.

Riches without charity are nothing worth. They are a blessing only to him who makes them a blessing to others.

For I hope my Friends will pardon me, when I declare, I know none of them without a Fault; and I should be sorry if I could imagine, I had any Friend who could not see mine. Forgiveness, of this Kind, we give and demand in Turn.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!

Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.

I want nothing to do with politicians. Their hearts wither away, and die out of their bodies. Their consciences are turned to india-rubber, or to some substance as black as that, and which will stretch as much.

Most days missing her is my only choice between death and dying.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, ’tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.

In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.

There is no belief, however foolish, that will not gather its faithful adherents who will defend it to the death.