The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.

Our business in the field of fight, Is not to question, but to prove our might.

Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius; without taste, genius is only sublime folly.

Woman's at best a contradiction still.

Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please, With too much spirit to be e'er at ease, With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much thinking to have common thought: You purchase pain with all that joy can give, And die of nothing but a rage to live.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Here thou, great Anna! Whom three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.