The province of the soul is large enough to fill up every cranny of your time, and leave you much to answer for if one wretch be damned by your neglect.
Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; And they have kept it since by being dead.
If you are for a merry jaunt, I will try, for once, who can foot it farthest.
My love's a noble madness.
Happy the man, and happy he alone, he, who can call today his own.
Mere poets are sottish as mere drunkards are, who live in a continual mist, without seeing or judging anything clearly. A man should be learned in several sciences, and should have a reasonable, philosophical and in some measure a mathematical head, to be a complete and excellent poet.