And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's Ark.

Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.

The commendation of adversaries is the greatest triumph of a writer, because it never comes unless extorted.

Set all things in their own peculiar place, and know that order is the greatest grace.

I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.

But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.