Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.