Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Nature meant me A wife, a silly, harmless, household dove, Fond without art, and kind without deceit.
Genius must be born, and never can be taught.
He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
Dead men tell no tales.
A thing well said will be wit in all languages.
Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.
Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's Ark.
For thee, sweet month; the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year; For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.
A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pygmy-body to decay: And o'er-informed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high He sought the storms...
One of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which either this age or nation has produced.
With how much ease believe we what we wish!
Music is inarticulate poesy.
I am resolved to grow fat, and look young till forty.
Virgil, above all poets, had a stock which I may call almost inexhaustible, of figurative, elegant, and sounding words.
Music, Music for a while Shall all your cares beguile. Alexander's Feast
From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners. Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave; God cannot grant so much as they can crave.
How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! Tosparethegrossness ofthenames, and to dothe thing yet moreseverely, isto drawa full face, and tomake the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing.
For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
The Fates but only spin the coarser clue; The finest of the wool is left for you.
Even kings but play; and when their part is done, some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.
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