As I Know More Of Mankind I

Beauty, Without Kindness, Dies Unenjoyed And Undelighting.

Abuse Is Often Of Service. There Is Nothing So Dangerous To An Author As Silence.

Here Lies Our Good Edmund, Whose Genius Was Such, We Scarcely Can Praise It Or Blame It Too Much; Who, Born For The Universe, Narrowed His Mind, And To Party Gave Up What Was Meant For Mankind.

It Ought To Be The First Endeavour Of A Writer To Distinguish Nature From Custom; Or That Which Is Established Because It Is Right, From That Which Is Right Only Because It Is Established; That He May Neither Violate Essential Principles By A Desire Of Novelty, Nor Debar Himself From The Attainment Of Beauties Within His View, By A Needless Fear Of Breaking Rules Which No Literary Dictator Had Authority To Enact.

It Is Necessary To The Success Of Flattery, That It Be Accommodated To Particular Circumstances Or Characters, And Enter The Heart On That Side Where The Passions Are Ready To Receive It.