Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!

No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.

Old men, for the most part, are like old chronicles that give you dull but true accounts of times past, and are worth knowing only on that score.

Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.

Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.

A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury, for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.