On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

In this commonplace world every one is said to be romantic who either admires a fine thing or does one.

Wit is the lowest form of humor.

Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.

Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.

Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.

No Senses stronger than his brain can bear. Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly: What the advantage, if his finer eyes Study a Mite, not comprehend the Skies?... Or quick Effluvia darting thro' his brain, Die of a Rose, in Aromatic pain? If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the Spheres... Who finds not Providence all-good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?