Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, more a cunning thing, but very few a generous thing.

Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear; 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? All fear, none aid you, and few understand.

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.

A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.

Where's the man who counsel can bestow, still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know.