A Disputant No More Cares For The

So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

Pleasures Are Ever In Our Hands Or Eyes; And When In Act They Cease, In Prospect Rise.

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.

Bear, Like The Turk, No Brother Near The Throne.

Men, Some To Business, Some To Pleasure Take; But Every Woman Is At Heart A Rake.