One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I'll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other. |
One hates an author that's all author |
One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer |
Opinions are made to be changed -or how is truth to be got at? |
Our thoughts take the wildest flight: Even at the moment when they should arrange themselves in thoughtful order. |
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people. |
Passion is the element in which we live; without it, we hardly vegetate. |
Physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem; but although we sneer - In health - when ill we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer |
Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes Sin's a pleasure |
Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes Sin's a pleasure |
Poetry should only occupy the idle. |
Posterity will never survey a nobler grave than this: here lie the bones of Castlereagh: stop, traveler, and piss. |
Prolonged endurance tames the bold. |
Proud of his learning (just enough to quote), He revell'd in his Ciceronian glory: With memory excellent to get by rote, With wit to hatch a pun or tell a story, Graced with some merit, and with more effrontery, 'His country's pride,' he came down to |
Pythagoras, Locke, Socrates -- but pages might be filled up, as vainly as before, with the sad usage of all sorts of sages, who in his life-time, each was deemed a bore! The loftiest minds outrun their tardy ages. |