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Women Use Lovers As They Do Cards; They Play With Them A While, And When They Have Got All They Can By Them, Throw Them Away, Call For New Ones, And Then Perhaps Lose By The New All They Got By The Old Ones.

-Alexander Pope

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Women Use Lovers As

Alexander Pope

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Women Use Lovers As They Do Cards; They Play With Them A While, And When They Have Got All They Can By Them, Throw Them Away, Call For New Ones, And Then Perhaps Lose By The New All They Got By The Old Ones.

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Ten Censure Wrong For One Who Writes Amiss.

Say, Will The Falcon, Stooping From Above, Smit With Her Varying Plumage, Spare The Dove? Admires The Jay The Insect's Gilded Wings? Or Hears The Hawk When Philomela Sings?

Luxurious Lobster-nights, Farewell, For Sober, Studious Days!

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!

See Christians, Jews, One Heavy Sabbath Keep, And All The Western World Believe And Sleep.

Let Joy Or Ease, Let Affluence Or Content, And The Gay Conscience Of A Life Well Spent, Calm Ev'ry Thought, Inspirit Ev'ry Grace, Glow In Thy Heart, And Smile Upon Thy Face.

No Silver Saints, By Dying Misers Giv'n, Here Brib'd The Rage Of Ill-requited Heav'n; But Such Plain Roofs As Piety Could Raise, And Only Vocal With The Maker's Praise.

When To Mischief Mortals Bend Their Will, How Soon They Find It Instruments Of Ill.

Where Beams Of Imagination Play, The Memory's Soft Figures Melt Away.

See How The World Its Veterans Rewards! A Youth Of Frolics, An Old Age Of Cards; Fair To No Purpose, Artful To No End, Young Without Lovers, Old Without A Friend; A Fop Their Passion, But Their Prize A Sot; Alive Ridiculous, And Dead Forgot.

On Wrongs Swift Vengeance Waits.

Beauty That Shocks You, Parts That None Will Trust, Wit That Can Creep, And Pride That Licks The Dust.

There Never Was Any Party, Faction, Sect, Or Cabal Whatsoever, In Which The Most Ignorant Were Not The Most Violent; For A Bee Is Not A Busier Animal Than A Blockhead.

Learn From The Beasts The Physic Of The Field.

We Ought, In Humanity, No More To Despise A Man For The Misfortunes Of The Mind Than For Those Of The Body, When They Are Such As He Cannot Help; Were This Thoroughly Considered We Should No More Laugh At A Man For Having His Brains Cracked Than For Having His Head Broke.

Hear How The Birds, On Ev'ry Blooming Spray, With Joyous Musick Wake The Dawning Day.

Dear Fatal Name! Rest Ever Unreveal'd, Nor Pass These Lips In Holy Silence Seal'd. Hide It, My Heart, Within That Close Disguise, Where Mixed With Gods, His Lov'd Idea Lies: O Write It Not, My Hand - The Name Appears Already Written - Wash It Out, My Tears! In Vain Lost Eloisa Weeps And Prays, Her Heart Still Dictates, And Her Hand Obeyes.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.

Tis Strange The Miser Should His Cares Employto Gain Those Riches He Can Ne'er Enjoy;is It Less Strange The Prodigal Should Wastehis Wealth To Purchase What He Ne'er Can Taste?

Vices And Virtues Are Of A Strange Nature, For The More We Have, The Fewer We Think We Have.

O Peace! How Many Wars Were Waged In Thy Name.

Heaven Breathes Thro' Ev'ry Member Of The Whole One Common Blessing, As One Common Soul.

The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heartfelt Joy.

As Some To Church Repair, Not For The Doctrine, But The Music There. These Equal Syllables Alone Require, Though Oft The Ear The Open Vowels Tire While Expletives Their Feeble Aid Do Join, And Ten Low Words Oft Creep In One Dull Line.

Who Pants For Glory, Finds But Short Repose; A Breath Revives Him, Or A Breath O'erthrows.

Cavil You May, But Never Criticise.

Genius Creates, And Taste Preserves. Taste Is The Good Sense Of Genius; Without Taste, Genius Is Only Sublime Folly.

Our Proper Bliss Depends On What We Blame.

A Field Of Glory Is A Field For All.

Reason's Whole Pleasure, All The Joys Of Sense, Lie In Three Words,-health, Peace, And Competence.

Words Are Like Leaves; And Where They Most Abound, Much Fruit Of Sense Beneath Is Rarely Found.

Know Then, Unnumber'd Spirits Round Thee Fly, The Light Militia Of The Lower Sky.

The Physician, By The Study And Inspection Of Urine And Ordure, Approves Himself In The Science; And In Like Sort Should Our Author Accustom And Exercise His Imagination Upon The Dregs Of Nature.

The Most Positive Men Are The Most Credulous, Since They Most Believe Themselves, And Advise Most With Their Falsest Flatterer And Worst Enemy--their Own Self-love.

Who Sees Pale Mammom Pine Amidst His Store, Sees But A Backward Steward For The Poor.

Some Are Bewildered In The Maze Of Schools, And Some Made Coxcombs Nature Meant But Fools.

At Present We Can Only Reason Of The Divine Justice From What We Know Of Justice In Man. When We Are In Other Scenes, We May Have Truer And Nobler Ideas Of It; But While We Are In This Life, We Can Only Speak From The Volume That Is Laid Open Before Us.

Go, Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

That Each From Other Differs, First Confess; Next That He Varies From Himself No Less.

Whether With Reason, Or With Instinct Blest, Know, All Enjoy That Pow'r Which Suits Them Best.

Learn Of The Little Nautilus To Sail, Spread The Thin Oar, And Catch The Driving Gale.

A King May Be A Tool, A Thing Of Straw; But If He Serves To Frighten Our Enemies, And Secure Our Property, It Is Well Enough; A Scarecrow Is A Thing Of Straw, But It Protects The Corn.

A Brave Man Struggling In The Storms Of Fate, And Greatly Falling With A Falling State.

And Hence One Master-passion In The Breast, Like Aaron's Serpent, Swallows Up The Rest.

Statesman, Yet Friend To Truth! Of Soul Sincere, In Action Faithful, And In Honour Clear; Who Broke No Promise, Serv'd No Private End, Who Gain'd No Title, And Who Lost No Friend.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.

Whate'er The Passion, Knowledge, Fame, Or Pelf, Not One Will Change His Neighbor With Himself.

Oft, As In Airy Rings They Skim The Heath, The Clamtrous Lapwings Feel The Leaden Death; Oft, As The Mounting Larks Their Notes Prepare They Fall, And Leave Their Little Lives In Air.

Praise Is Like Ambergrease: A Little Whiff Of It, And By Snatches, Is Very Agreeable; But When A Man Holds A Whole Lump Of It To Your Nose, It Is A Stink, And Strikes You Down.

An Atheist Is But A Mad, Ridiculous Derider Of Piety, But A Hypocrite Makes A Sober Jest Of God And Religion; He Finds It Easier To Be Upon His Knees Than To Rise To A Good Action.

The Time Shall Come, When, Free As Seas Or Wind, Unbounded Thames Shall Flow For All Mankind, Whole Nations Enter With Each Swelling Tide, And Seas But Join The Regions They Divide; Earth's Distant Ends Our Glory Shall Behold, And The New World Launch Forth To Seek The Old.

Here Am I, Dying Of A Hundred Good Symptoms.

Famous Last Words

Did Some More Sober Critics Come Abroad? If Wrong, I Smil'd; If Right, I Kiss'd The Rod.

Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit, For Works May Have More With Than Does 'em Good, As Bodies Perish Through Excess Of Blood.

Our Rural Ancestors, With Little Blest, Patient Of Labor When The End Was Rest, Indulged The Day That Housed Their Annual Grain, With Feasts, And Off'rings, And A Thankful Strain.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

Never Elated When Someone's Oppressed, Never Dejected When Another One's Blessed.

All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See

How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

Praise Undeserved, Is Satire In Disguise.

You Eat, In Dreams, The Custard Of The Day.

There Is No Study That Is Not Capable Of Delighting Us After A Little Application To It.

Genius Creates, And Taste Preserves.

Learn To Live Well, Or Fairly Make Your Will; You've Play'd, And Lov'd, And Ate, And Drank Your Fill: Walk Sober Off, Before A Sprightlier Age Comes Titt'ring On, And Shoves You From The Stage.

Find, If You Can, In What You Cannot Change. Manners With Fortunes, Humours Turn With Climes, Tenets With Books, And Principles With Times.

Mankind Is Unamendable.

If Faith Itself Has Different Dresses Worn, What Wonder Modes In Wit Should Take Their Turn?

[t]hro This Air, This Ocean, And This Earth, All Nature Quick, And Bursting Into Birth. Above, How High Progressive Life May Go? Around How Wide? How Deep Extend Below? Vast Chain Of Being! Which From God Began, Ethereal Essence, Spirit, Substance, Man, Beast, Bird, Fish, Insect! What No Eye Can See, No Glass Can Reach! From Infinite To Thee! From Thee To Nothing.... From Natures Chain Whatever Link You Strike, Tenth, Or Ten Thousandth, Breaks The Chain Alike.... All Are But Parts Of One Stupendous Whole: Whose Body Nature Is, And God The Soul.

In Every Work Regard The Writer's End, Since None Can Compass More Than They Intend.

One Thought Of Thee Puts All The Pomp To Flight; Priests, Tapers, Temples, Swim Before My Sight.

But Those Who Cannot Write, And Those Who Can, All Rhyme, And Scrawl, And Scribble, To A Man.

And More Than Echoes Talk Along The Walls.

Learning Is Like Mercury, One Of The Most Powerful And Excellent Things In The World In Skillful Hands; In Unskillful, The Most Mischievous.

To Be Angry Is To Revenge The Faults Of Others On Ourselves.

Women Use Lovers As They Do Cards; They Play With Them A While, And When They Have Got All They Can By Them, Throw Them Away, Call For New Ones, And Then Perhaps Lose By The New All They Got By The Old Ones.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!

Like Bubbles On The Sea Of Matter Borne, They Rise, They Break, And To That Sea Return.

Lo! The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way.

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.

Some People Are Commended For A Giddy Kind Of Good-humor, Which Is As Much A Virtue As Drunkenness.

The Same Ambition Can Destroy Or Save, And Make A Patriot As It Makes A Knave.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows.

Horses (thou Say'st) And Asses Men May Try, And Ring Suspected Vessels Ere They Buy; But Wives, A Random Choice, Untried They Take; They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake; Then, Nor Till Then, The Veil's Removed Away, And All The Woman Glares In Open Day.

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well? To Bear Too Tender Or Too Firm A Heart, To Act A Lover's Or A Roman's Part? Is There No Bright Reversion In The Sky For Those Who Greatly Think, Or Bravely Die?

To Rest, The Cushion And Soft Dean Invite, Who Never Mentions Hell To Ears Polite.

Virtuous And Vicious Every Man Must Be, Few In The Extreme, But All In The Degree.

E'en Sunday Shines No Sabbath Day To Me.

The Bookful Blockhead, Ignorantly Read With Loads Of Learned Lumber In His Head.

And Seem To Walk On Wings, And Tread In Air.

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast: Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest.

Every Man Has Just As Much Vanity As He Wants Understanding.

Awake, My St. John! Leave All Meaner Things To Low Ambition And The Pride Of Kings. Let Us (since Life Can Little More Supply Than Just To Look About Us, And To Die) Expatiate Free O'er All This Scene Of Man; A Mighty Maze! But Not Without A Plan.

There Are Some Solitary Wretches Who Seem To Have Left The Rest Of Mankind, Only, As Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil In Private.

With The Mistake Your Life Goes In Reverse. Now You Can See Exactly What You Did Wrong Yesterday And Wrong The Day Before And Each Mistake Leads Back To Something Worse.

Some Positive Persisting Fops We Know, Who, If Once Wrong, Will Needs Be Always So; But You With Pleasure Own Your Errors Past, And Make Each Day A Critique On The Last.

Sometimes Virtue Starves While Vice Is Fed.

The Good Must Merit God's Peculiar Care; But Who But God Can Tell Us Who They Are?

Wise Wretch! With Pleasures Too Refined To Please, With Too Much Spirit To Be E'er At Ease, With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught, With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought: You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give, And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

Blest Paper-credit! Last And Best Supply! That Lends Corruption Lighter Wings To Fly!

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Envy Will Merit, As Its Shade, Pursue

What Is It To Be Wise? 'tis But To Know How Little Can Be Known, To See All Others' Faults, And Feel Our Own.

Fix'd Like A Plant On His Peculiar Spot, To Draw Nutrition, Propagate And Rot.

The Dying Christian To His Soul (1712) -vital Spark Of Heav'nly Flame! Quit, Oh Quit, This Mortal Frame: Trembling, Hoping, Ling'ring, Flying, Oh The Pain, The Bliss Of Dying! Stanza 1.

One Science Only Will One Genius Fit; So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor For Her Favors Call; She Comes Unlooked For, If She Comes At All .

No, Make Me Mistress To The Man I Love; If There Be Yet Another Name More Free More Fond Than Mistress, Make Me That To Thee!

Ambition First Sprung From Your Blest Abodes: The Glorious Fault Of Angels And Of Gods.

Search Then The Ruling Passion: This Clue, Once Found, Unravels All The Rest.

See Skulking Truth To Her Old Cavern Fled, Mountains Of Casuistry Heap'd O'er Her Head! Philosophy, That Lean'd On Heav'n Before, Shrinks To Her Second Cause, And Is No More. Physic Of Metaphysic Begs Defence, And Metaphysic Calls For Aid On Sense! See Mystery To Mathematics Fly!

In This Commonplace World Every One Is Said To Be Romantic Who Either Admires A Fine Thing Or Does One.

The Heart Resolves This Matter In A Trice, "men Only Feel The Smart, But Not The Vice.

I Am His Highness' Dog At Kew; Pray Tell Me, Sir, Whose Dog Are You?

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

Dulness! Whose Good Old Cause I Yet Defend, With Whom My Muse Began, With Who Shall End.

And All Who Told It Added Something New, And All Who Heard It, Made Enlargements Too.

The Meeting Points The Sacred Hair Dissever From The Fair Head, Forever, And Forever! Then Flashed The Living Lightning From Her Eyes, And Screams Of Horror Rend Th' Affrighted Skies.

By Music Minds An Equal Temper Know, Nor Swell Too High, Nor Sink Too Low. . . . . Warriors She Fires With Animated Sounds. Pours Balm Into The Bleeding Lover's Wounds.

Man Never Thinks Himself Happy, But When He Enjoys Those Things Which Others Want Or Desire.

That Virtue Only Makes Our Bliss Below, And All Our Knowledge Is Ourselves To Know.

Lo! The Poor Indian, Whose Untutored Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind.

Old Men, For The Most Part, Are Like Old Chronicles That Give You Dull But True Accounts Of Times Past, And Are Worth Knowing Only On That Score.

Music The Fiercest Grief Can Charm, And Fate's Severest Rage Disarm. Music Can Soften Pain To Ease, And Make Despair And Madness Please; Our Joys Below It Can Improve, And Antedate The Bliss Above.

Amusement Is The Happiness Of Those Who Cannot Think.

And You, My Critics! In The Chequer'd Shade, Admire New Light Thro' Holes Yourselves Have Made.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

For Forms Of Government, Let Fools Contest; Whate'er Is Best Administered, Is Best.

Who Breaks A Butterfly On A Wheel?

At Every Trifle Take Offense, That Always Shows Great Pride Or Little Sense.

When Much Dispute Has Past, We Find Our Tenets Just The Same As Last.

Worth Makes The Man, And Want Of It The Fellow; The Rest Is All But Leather And Prunello.

Act Well Your Part, There All The Honour Lies.

Pretty! In Amber To Observe The Forms Of Hairs, Of Straws, Or Dirt, Or Grubs, Or Worms! The Things, We Know, Are Neither Rich Nor Rare, But Wonder How The Devil They Got There.

A Perfect Judge Will Read Each Word Of Wit With The Same Spirit That Its Author Writ.

Yes, I Am Proud; I Must Be Proud To See Men Not Afraid Of God, Afraid Of Me.

A Disputant No More Cares For The Truth Than The Sportsman For The Hare.

A Good-natured Man Has The Whole World To Be Happy Out Of.

And Empty Heads Console With Empty Sound.

Hope Travels Through, Nor Quits Us When We Die.

But See, Orion Sheds Unwholesome Dews; Arise, The Pines A Noxious Shade Diffuse; Sharp Boreas Blows, And Nature Feels Decay, Time Conquers All, And We Must Time Obey.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.

Happy The Man Whose Wish And Care A Few Paternal Acres Bound, Content To Breathe His Native Air In His Own Ground.

There Is But One Way I Know Of Conversing Safely With All Men; That Is, Not By Concealing What We Say Or Do, But By Saying Or Doing Nothing That Deserves To Be Concealed.

Consult The Genius Of The Place, That Paints As You Plant, And As You Work.

Love, Free As Air, At Sight Of Human Ties, Spreads His Light Wings, And In A Moment Flies.

Some Old Men, Continually Praise The Time Of Their Youth. In Fact, You Would Almost Think That There Were No Fools In Their Days, But Unluckily They Themselves Are Left As An Example.

Praise From A Friend, Or Censure From A Foe, Are Lost On Hearers That Our Merits Know.

There Is A Majesty In Simplicity.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense. There Are Forty Men Of Wit For One Man Of Sense; And He That Will Carry Nothing About Him But Gold, Will Be Every Day At A Loss For Want Of Readier Change.

The Difference Is As Great Between The Optics Seeing As The Objects Seen. All Manners Take A Tincture From Our Own; Or Come Discolor'd Through Out Passions Shown; Or Fancy's Beam Enlarges, Multiplies, Contracts, Inverts, And Gives Ten Thousand Dyes.

Coffee Which Makes The Politician Wise, And See Through All Things With His Half-shut Eyes.

All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood; All Partial Evil, Universal Good.

Here Hills And Vales, The Woodland And The Plain Here Earth And Water Seem To Strive Again, Not Chaos-like Together Crushed And Bruised, But, As The World, Harmoniously Confused: Where Order In Variety We See, And Where, Though All Things Differ, All Agree.

But See How Oft Ambition's Aims Are Cross'd, And Chiefs Contend 'til All The Prize Is Lost!

Chaste To Her Husband, Frank To All Beside, A Teeming Mistress, But A Barren Bride.

Be Not The First By Whom The New Are Tried, Nor Yet The Last To Lay The Old Aside.

Choose A Firm Cloud Before It Fall, And In It Catch, Ere She Change, The Cynthia Of This Minute.

A Brain Of Feathers, And A Heart Of Lead.

Let Such Teach Others Who Themselves Excel, And Censure Freely Who Have Written Well.

Who Combats Bravely Is Not Therefore Brave, He Dreads A Death-bed Like The Meanest Slave: Who Reasons Wisely Is Not Therefore Wise,- His Pride In Reasoning, Not In Acting Lies.

To Endeavor To Work Upon The Vulgar With Fine Sense Is Like Attempting To Hew Blocks With A Razor.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

No Creature Smarts So Little As A Fool.

Know Then Thyself, Presume Not God To Scan; The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man.

Who Know But He, Whose Hand The Lightning Forms, Who Heaves Old Ocean, And Who Wings The Storms, Pours Fierce Ambition In A Caesar's Mind.

In Vain Sedate Reflections We Would Make When Half Our Knowledge We Must Snatch, Not Take.

The Ruling Passion, Be It What It Will. The Ruling Passion Conquers Reason Still.

Tis Use Alone That Sanctifies Expense And Splendor Borrow All Her Rays From Sense.

No Craving Void Left Aching In The Soul.

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

An Honest Man's The Noblest Work Of God.

Offend Her, And She Knows Not To Forgive; Oblige Her, And She'll Hate You While You Live.

Where'er You Walk Cool Gales Shall Fan The Glade, Trees Where You Sit Shall Crowd Into A Shade. Where'er You Tread The Blushing Flowers Shall Rise, And All Things Flourish Where You Turn Your Eyes.

Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race Ensnare; And Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

Teach Me To Feel Another's Woe, To Hide The Fault I See, That Mercy I To Others Show, That Mercy Show To Me.

Who Taught That Heaven-directed Spire To Rise?

Th' Unwilling Gratitude Of Base Mankind!

A Perfect Woman's But A Softer Man.

A Brave Man Thinks No One His Superior Who Does Him An Injury, For He Has It Then In His Power To Make Himself Superior To The Other By Forgiving It.

Ask For What End The Heavenly Bodies Shine, Earth For Whose Use? Pride Answers, 'tis For Mine For Me Kind Nature Wakes Her Genial Power, Suckles Each Herb, And Spreads Out Every Flower.

Such As Are Still Observing Upon Others Are Like Those Who Are Always Abroad At Other Men's Houses, Reforming Everything There While Their Own Runs To Ruin.

I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

For Forms Of Faith Let Graceless Zealots Fight; His Can't Be Wrong Whose Life Is In The Right.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.

Health Consists With Temperance Alone.

A Wise Physician, Skill'd Our Wounds To Heal, Is More Than Armies To The Public Weal.

Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.

With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught; With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought.

A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

Reason, However Able, Cool At Best, Cares Not For Service, Or But Serves When Prest, Stays Till We Call, And Then Not Often Near.

The Finest Minds, Like The Finest Metals, Dissolve The Easiest.

Good-humor Only Teaches Charms To Last, Still Makes New Conquests And Maintains The Past.

That Character In Conversation Which Commonly Passes For Agreeable Is Made Up Of Civility And Falsehood.

On Cold December Fragrant Chaplets Blow, And Heavy Harvests Nod Beneath The Snow.

Two Purposes In Human Nature Rule. Self- Love To Urge, And Reason To Restrain.

A King Is A Mortal God On Earth, Unto Whom The Living God Hath Lent His Own Name As A Great Honour; But Withal Told Him, He Should Die Like A Man, Lest He Should Be Proud, And Flatter Himself That God Hath With His Name Imparted Unto Him His Nature Also. John Locke, "of A King", The Conduct Of The Understanding: Essays, Moral, Economical, And Political A King May Be A Tool, A Thing Of Straw; But If He Serves To Frighten Our Enemies, And Secure Our Property, It Is Well Enough: A Scarecrow Is A Thing Of Straw, But It Protects The Corn.

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be.

Avoid Extremes; And Shun The Fault Of Such Who Still Are Pleas'd Too Little Or Too Much.

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