If, presume not to God to scan; The proper study of Mankind is Man. Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, a being darkly wise, and rudely great.
Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
Where beams of imagination play, the memory's soft figures melt away.
Whatever is, is right.
Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.
Avoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.