His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home.

The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.

Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.

Meditation here may think down hours to moments. Here the heart may give a useful lesson to the head and learning wiser grow without his books.

England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!

The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.