A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing.

No Louder Shrieks To Pitying Heaven Are Cast, When Husbands Or Lap-dogs Breathe Their Last.

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.

Whoe'er He Be That Tells My Faults, I Hate Him Mortally.

Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart; To Make Mankind, In Conscious Virtue Bold, Live O'er Each Seene, And Be What They Behold: For This The Tragic Muse First Trod The Stage.