Tis the most certain sign, the world's accurst That the best things corrupted, are the worst; 'Twas the corrupted Light of knowledge, hurl'd Sin, Death, and Ignorance o'er all the world; That Sun like this (from which our sight we have) Gaz'd on too long, resumes the light he gave.
We are never like angels till our passion dies.
Who fears not to do ill fears the name, And free from conscience, is a slave to fame.
Uncertain ways unsafest are, and doubt a greater mischief than despair.
When any great design thou dost intend, Think on the means, the manner, and the end.
Poetry is of so subtle a spirit, that in the pouring out of one language into another it will evaporate.