Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.

Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.

Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Avoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.

A good-natured man has the whole world to be happy out of.

For forms of government, let fools contest; Whate'er is best administered, is best.