Wit is the lowest form of humor.

The dances ended, all the fairy train For pinks and daisies search'd the flow'ry plain.

A perfect judge will read each word of wit with the same spirit that its author writ.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.

A king may be a tool, a thing of straw; but if he serves to frighten our enemies, and secure our property, it is well enough; a scarecrow is a thing of straw, but it protects the corn.

In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost; contracted all, retiring to the breast; but strength of mind is exercise, not rest.

New, distant Scenes of endless Science rise: So pleas'd at first, the towring Alps we try.