Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To

Our Passions Are Like Convulsion Fits, Which, Though They Make Us Stronger For A Time, Leave Us The Weaker Ever After.

True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dress'd What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Express'd; Something Whose Truth Convinced At Sight We Find, That Gives Us Back The Image Of Our Mind. As Shades More Sweetly Recommend The Light, So Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit.

Superstition Is The Spleen Of The Soul.

Atheists Put On False Courage And Alacrity In The Midst Of Their Darkness And Apprehensions, Like Children Who, When They Fear To Go In The Dark, Will Sing For Fear.

Be Thou The First True Merit To Befriend, His Praise Is Lost Who Stays Till All Commend.