The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, and love the offender, yet detest the offence?
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? All fear, none aid you, and few understand.