The good must merit God's peculiar care; But who but God can tell us who they are?
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.
No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.
Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.