You purchase pain with all that joy can give and die of nothing but a rage to live.

Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are madeTaller or stronger than the weeds they shade?Or ask of yonder argent fields above,Why Jove's Satellites are less than Jove?

A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.

Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven.

Let such teach others who themselves excel, And censure freely who have written well.

The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.

O peace! how many wars were waged in thy name.