Nature and nature's laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!
Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Most authors steal their works, or buy.
Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.