Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.

Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius; without taste, genius is only sublime folly.

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.

Wit in conversation is only a readiness of thought and a facility of expression, or a quick conception and an easy delivery.

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state.

And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.