Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.
The solemn fop; significant and budge; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.