There cannot live a more unhappy creature than an ill-natured old man, >>
When all is done, human life is, at the greatest and the best, but lik >>
The first glass is for myself, the second for my friends, the third fo >>
I can't complain, but sometimes I still do. >>
When complaints are freely heard, deeply considered and speedily refor >>
We lose the right of complaining sometimes, by denying something, but >>
Our present time is indeed a criticizing and critical time, hovering between the wish, and the inability to believe. Our complaints are like arrows shot up into the air at no target: and with no purpose they only fall back upon our own heads and destroy ourselves.