Probably No One Will Ever

Our Desires Always Increase With Our Possessions. The Knowledge That Something Remains Yet Unenjoyed Impairs Our Enjoyment Of The Good Before Us.

The Hapless Wit Has His Labors Always To Begin, The Call For Novelty Is Never Satisfied, And One Jest Only Raises Expectation Of Another.

Every Man Is, Or Hopes To Be, An Idler.

We May Take Fancy For A Companion, But Must Follow Reason As Our Guide.

All Envy Is Proportionate To Desire; We Are Uneasy At The Attainments Of Another, According As We Think Our Own Happiness Would Be Advanced By The Addition Of That Which He Withholds From Us.