Spare feast! a radish and an egg.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.

Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.

The man that hails you Tom or Jack, and proves by thumps upon your back how he esteems your merit, is such a friend, that one had need be very much his friend indeed to pardon or to bear it.

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.