By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?

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

England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast; Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea.

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

A joke's a very serious thing.

With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.

The proud will sooner lose than ask their way.