What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.

We nothing know, but what is marvellous; Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.

What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.

Men before you have quit smoking - you can too!

We are not all great because we are inspired, but we feel great because we are.