To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense.

Even In A Hero's Heart Discretion Is The Better Part.

Enough Of Self, That Darling Luscious Theme, O'er Which Philosophers In Raptures Dream; Of Which With Seeming Disregard They Write Then Prizing Most When Most They Seem To Slight.

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.

Genius Is Of No Country; Her Pure Ray Spreads All Abroad, As General As The Day.

The Proud Will Sooner Lose Than Ask Their Way.