Habit with him was all the test of truth; It must be right: I've done it from my youth.

Oh, rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain; Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.

Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food.

The game is never lost till won.

With eye upraised his master's look to scan, The joy, the solace, and the aid of man: The rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend, The only creature faithful to the end.

To show the world what long experience gains, requires not courage, though it calls for pains; but at life's outset to inform mankind is a bold effort of a valiant mind.

Fears of sinning let in thoughts of sin.