At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.

At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.

Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.

The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.

Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!

Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are madeTaller or stronger than the weeds they shade?Or ask of yonder argent fields above,Why Jove's Satellites are less than Jove?

Beauty draws us with a single hair.