O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion!
I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.
God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf: To him man's dearer than to himself.
Confound these ancestors... They've stolen our best ideas!
To men pressed by their wants all change is ever welcome.
In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures, life may perfect be.