Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.
For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.
If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
Griefs assured are felt before they come.
Let those find fault whose wit's so very small, They've need to show that they can think at all; Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls, must dive below. Fops may have leave to level all they can; As pigmies would be glad to lop a man. Half-wits are fleas; so little and so light, We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.
Treason is greatest where trust is greatest.
They, who would combat general authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men.
The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
Mere poets are sottish as mere drunkards are, who live in a continual mist, without seeing or judging anything clearly. A man should be learned in several sciences, and should have a reasonable, philosophical and in some measure a mathematical head, to be a complete and excellent poet.
Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: Preventing angels met it half the way, And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.
Some of our philosophizing divines have too much exalted the faculties of our souls, when they have maintained that by their force mankind has been able to find out God.
Want is a bitter and a hateful good, Because its virtues are not understood; Yet many things, impossible to thought, Have been by need to full perfection brought. The daring of the soul proceeds from thence, Sharpness of wit, and active diligence; Prudence at once, and fortitude it gives; And, if in patience taken, mends our lives.
He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
A farce is that in poetry which grotesque (caricature) is in painting. The persons and actions of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false, that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind; and grotesque painting is the just resemblance of this.
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
Truth is the foundation of all knowledge and the cement of all societies.
And that the Scriptures, though not everywhere Free from corruption, or entire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire In all things which our needful faith require.
Parting is worse than death; it is death of love!
Time glides with undiscover'd haste; The future but a length behind the past.
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