Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still |
Genius is independent of situation. |
Genius is of no country; her pure ray / Spreads all abroad, as general as the day. |
Genius is of no country. |
It can't be Nature, for it is not sense |
Just to the windward of the law. |
Keep up appearances; there lies the test; The world will give thee credit for the rest |
Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest. |
Patience is sorrow's salve. |
Prudent dullness marked him for a mayor. |
So loud each tongue, so empty was each head, / So much they talked, so very little said. |
Statesman all over, in plots famous grown,/ He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone. |
The best things carried to excess are wrong. |
The danger chiefly lies in acting well,/ No crime's so great as daring to excel. |
Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves. |