Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
And soften'd sounds along the waters die: Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.
Some praise at morning what they blame at night, but always think the last opinion right.
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.
To Him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all!
Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call; She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all .
In adamantine chains shall Death be bound, And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,Or gave his father grief but when he died.
With too much quickness ever to be taught; With too much thinking to have common thought.
Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature's God.
Offend her, and she knows not to forgive; Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live.
Others import yet nobler arts from France, Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather and prunello.
Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.
Order is Heaven's first law; and this confess, Some are and must be greater than the rest.
Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.
There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.
You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.
Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.
Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven.
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
Pleas'd look forward, pleas'd to look behind,And count each birthday with a grateful mind.
New, distant Scenes of endless Science rise: So pleas'd at first, the towring Alps we try.
Nature and nature's laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!
Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
Who pants for glory, finds but short repose; A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.
In vain sedate reflections we would make When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
Where's the man who counsel can bestow, still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood, of all the Howards.
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep, And all the western world believe and sleep.
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
But see how oft ambition's aims are cross'd, and chiefs contend 'til all the prize is lost!
No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.
A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
While pensive poets painful vigils keep, Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.
Coffee which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
True wit is nature to advantage dressed; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
Men must be taught as if you taught them not, and things unknown proposed as things forgot.
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.
Then sculpture and her sister arts revived; stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live.
If faith itself has different dresses worn, What wonder modes in wit should take their turn?
A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.
Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.