So vast is art, so narrow human wit.

To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.

At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.

Monuments, like men, submit to fate.

Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.

For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.