All objects lose by too familiar a view.

For they conquer who believe they can.

But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.

The wretched have no friends.

What judgment I had increases rather than diminishes; and thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me, that my only difficulty is to choose or reject; to run them into verse or to give them the other harmony of prose.

I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, sparing, and invidious panegyric.

To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.

He look'd in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.

God never made His work for man to mend.

Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.

Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth.

Calms appear, when Storms are past;

Love will have his Hour at last:

Nature is my kindly Care;

Mars destroys, and I repair;

Take me, take me, while you may,

Venus comes not ev'ry Day.

None but the brave deserve the fair.

The people have a right supreme

To make their kings, for Kings are made for them.

All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust,

Which when resum'd, can be no longer just.

Successionm for the general good design'd,

In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.

Honor is but an empty bubble.

Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.

What passions cannot music raise or quell?

If you be pungent, be brief; for it is with words as with sunbeams -- the more they are condensed the deeper they burn.

There is a pleasure in being mad which none but madmen know.

Seek not to know what must not be reveal, for joy only flows where fate is most concealed. A busy person would find their sorrows much more; if future fortunes were known before!