For Wit And Judgment Often

Seas Roll To Waft Me, Suns To Light Me Rise; My Footstool Earth, My Canopy The Skies.

I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

What Can Ennoble Sots, Or Slaves, Or Cowards? Alas! Not All The Blood, Of All The Howards.

Some Old Men, Continually Praise The Time Of Their Youth. In Fact, You Would Almost Think That There Were No Fools In Their Days, But Unluckily They Themselves Are Left As An Example.

Absent Or Dead, Still Let A Friend Be Dear.