Happiness is a perpetual possession of being well deceived.

All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree of pain and languor; it's like spending this year part of next year's revenue.

Happiness is the perpetual possession of being well deceived.

If Heaven had looked upon riches to be a valuable thing, it would not have given them to such a scoundrel.

So endless and exorbitant are the desires of men that they will grasp at all, and can form no scheme of perfect happiness with less.