By heaven you have destroyed me, my friends!
Virtue lies half way between two opposite vices.
Scribblers are a self-conceited and self-worshipping race.
Ridicule more often settles things more thoroughly and better than acrimony.
No poem was ever written by a drinker of water.
Pale death with an impartial foot knocks at the hovels of the poor and the palaces of king.