Since a true knowledge of nature gives us pleasure, a lively imitation of it, either in poetry or painting, must produce a much greater; for both these arts are not only true imitations of nature, but of the best nature.

Raw in the fields the rude militia swarms, Mouth without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence.

Interest makes all seem reason that leads to it.

As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes.

The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.

An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.

To so perverse a sex all grace is vain.