The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails.

On wrongs swift vengeance waits.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot? The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.

While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!" "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.

To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise.

Most authors steal their works, or buy.