She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
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.
So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.
I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, Lives not to please himself, but other men; Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood, Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.
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.
As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes.
The good we have enjoyed from Heaven's free will, and shall we murmur to endure the ill?
For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.
Beauty is nothing else but a just accord and mutual harmony of the members, animated by a healthful constitution.
Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
My love's a noble madness.
Even victors are by victories undone.
Either be wholly slaves or wholly free.
Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.
The first is the law, the last prerogative.
Damn'd neuters, in their middle way of steering, Are neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring.
Raw in the fields the rude militia swarms, Mouth without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence.
To take up half on trust, and half to try, Name it not faith but bungling bigotry.
A satirical poet is the check of the laymen on bad priests.
And after hearing what our Church can say, If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb; For points obscure are of small use to learn, But common quiet is mankind's concern.
Successful crimes alone are justified.
The fortitude of a Christian consists in patience, not in enterprises which the poets call heroic, and which are commonly the effects of interest, pride and worldly honor.
For granting we have sinned, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid, And infinite with infinite be weighed.
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