Choose an author as you would a friend.
Tis I that call, remember Milo's end, Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.
What you keep by you, you may change and mend but words, once spoken, can never be recalled.
Praise Him, each savage furious beast
That on His stores do daily feast;
And you tame slaves, of the laborious plough,
Your weary knees to your Creator bow.
The men, who labour and digest things most, Will be much apter to despond than boast; For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.
Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness; For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
The multitude is always wrong.
We weep and laugh, as we see others do.
Pride (of all others the most dang'rous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought.
Our heroes of the former days deserved and gained their never-fading bays.
Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment.
Whatsoever contradicts my sense,
I hate to see, and never can believe.
Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.
Beware what spirit rages in your breast; for one inspired, ten thousand are possessed.
Let us not write at a loose rambling rate, in hope the world will wink at all our faults.
You gain your point if your industrious art can make unusual words easy.
The first great work (a task performed by few)
Is that yourself may to yourself be true.
Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.
Truth and fiction are so aptly mixed that all seems uniform and of a piece.
Often try what weight you can support,
And what your shoulders are too weak to bear.
Men still had faults, and men will have them still; He that hath none, and lives as angels do, Must be an angel.
You must not think that a satiric style allows of scandalous and brutish words; the better sort abhor scurrility.
The press, the pulpit, and the stage, Conspire to censure and expose our age.
... truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.
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