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the wrong; which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he was yesterday.
Wherever I find a great deal of gratitude in a poor man; I take it for granted there would be as much geneTosity if he were a rich man.
Flowers of rhetoric in fermons or serious discourses, are like the blue and red flowers in corn, pleasing to those who come only for amusement, but prejudicial to him who would reap the profit.
It often happens that those are the best people, whose characters have been most injured by flanderers : as we usually find that to be the sweetest fruit, which the birds have been picking at. THE
of the critic is often like a microscope, made fo very fine and nice, that it discovers the atoms, grains, and minutest articles, without ever comprehending the whole, comparing the parts, or seeing all at once the harmony.
Men's zeal for religion is much of the same kind as that which they shew for a foot-ball: whenever it is contetted for, every one ready to venture their lives and limbs in: the dispute ; but when that is once at an end, it is no more thought on, but feeps in oblivion, buried in rubbish, which no one thinks it worth his pains to rake into, much less to
Honour is but a fi&itious kind of honefty; a mean but a necessary substitute for it, in focieties who have none; it is a fort of paper credit, with which men are obliged to trade, who are deficient in the sterling cash of true morality and religion.
Persons of great delicacy should know the certainty of the following truth : there are abundance of cases which occasion fufpense, in which whatever they determine, they will repent of the determination, and this through a pro
pensity of human nature to fancy happiness in those schemes which it does not pursue.
The chief advantage that ancient writers can boast over modern ones seems owing to fimplicity. Every noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the former in a natural manner, in a word and phrase fimple, perspicuous, and incapable of improvement. What then remained for later writers, but affectation, witticism, and conceit?
What a piece of work is man! how noble in rea
fon! how infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehenfion, how like a god!
If to do, were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes? palaces. He is a good divine who follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would deffair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporeal fufferance, feels a pang as great,
How far the little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Love all, trust a few,
The cloud-clapt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
The Poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The form of things unknown, the Poet's pen Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
HEAVEN doth with us, as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues
forth of us, 'twere all alike
What stronger breaft-plate than a heart untainted?
So it falls out,
The virtue that possession would not shew us
times before their deaths ;
THERE is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
O MOMENTARY grace of mortal men,