Sometimes a fool makes a good suggestion.

Now two punctilious envoys, Thine and Mine, Embroil the earth about a fancied line; And, dwelling much on right and much on wrong, Prove how the right is chiefly with the strong.

Everything that poverty touches becomes frightful.

Happy who in his verse can gently steer, From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.

A proud bigot, who is vain enough to think that he can deceive even God by affected zeal, and throwing the veil of holiness over vices, damns all mankind by the word of his power.

Honor is like an island, rugged and without a beach; once we have left it, we can never return.

The dreadful burden of having nothing to do.