Folly ends where genuine hope begins.

Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.

A man renowned for repartee will seldom scruple to make free with friendship's finest feeling, will thrust a dagger at your breast, and say he wounded you in jest, by way of balm for healing.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.

Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.

The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.