For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion.

Education forms the common mind. Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.

Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.

For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd; but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

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

If a man's character is to be abused there's nobody like a relative to do the business.