What has this unfeeling age of ours left untried, what wickedness has it shunned?
Where there are many beauties in a poem I shall not cavil at a few faults proceeding either from negligence or from the imperfection of our nature.
Teaching brings out innate powers, and proper training braces the intellect.
The populace may hiss me, but when I go home and think of my money, I applaud myself.
Whom does undeserved honour please, and undeserved blame alarm, but the base and the liar?
What can be found equal to modesty, uncorrupt faith, the sister of justice, and undisguised truth?