Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and

Cursed Be The Verse, How Well So E'er It Flow, That Tends To Make One Worthy Man My Foe.

A Work Of Art That Contains Theories Is Like An Object On Which The Price Tag Has Been Left.

To Be, Contents His Natural Desire, He Asks No Angel's Wing, No Seraph's Fire; But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company. Go Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

Pretty! In Amber To Observe The Forms Of Hairs, Of Straws, Or Dirt, Or Grubs, Or Worms! The Things, We Know, Are Neither Rich Nor Rare, But Wonder How The Devil They Got There.

A Family Is But Too Often A Commonwealth Of Malignants.