Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.

Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.

But dying is a pleasure / When living is a pain.

Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.

Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.

Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail: But common interest always will prevail; And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people's wrongs his own.

Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.