The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.

Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.

What you keep by you, you may change and mend but words, once spoken, can never be recalled.

Choose an author as you would a friend.

I will not quarrel with a slight mistake, Such as our nature's frailty may excuse.

Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness; For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.

Sound judgment is the ground of writing well.