The making presents to a lady one addresses is like throwing armor into an enemy's camp, with a resolution to recover it.

My banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep.

Let the gulled fool the toil of war pursue, where bleed the many to enrich the few.

In a heavy oppressive atmosphere, when the spirits sink too low, the best cordial is to read over all the letters of one's friends.

The proper means of increasing the love we bear our native country is to reside some time in a foreign one.

The making presents to a lady one addresses is like throwing armor into an enemy's camp, with a resolution to recover it.

Every good poet includes a critic, but the reverse is not true.