Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless, but it impairs what it would improve.

Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven.

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

But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.

As with narrow-necked bottles; the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring out.

Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.

Those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.