It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.

Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford; and reputation bleeds in every word.

Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.

When fiction rises pleasing to the eye, men will believe, because they love the lie; but truth herself, if clouded with a frown, must have some solemn proof to pass her down.

The laws I love; the lawyers I suspect.

Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.

If you mean to profit, learn to praise.