I prayed only for a small piece of land, a garden, an ever-flowing spring, and bit of woods.
To have begun is half the job; be bold and be sensible.
And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low mimic follies of a farce, As a grave matron would to dance with girls.
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.
Despise not sweet inviting love-making nor the merry dance.
The fellow is either a madman or a poet.