To Take Up Half On Trust, And

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.

Boldness Is A Mask For Fear, However Great.

Since A True Knowledge Of Nature Gives Us Pleasure, A Lively Imitation Of It, Either In Poetry Or Painting, Must Produce A Much Greater; For Both These Arts Are Not Only True Imitations Of Nature, But Of The Best Nature.

Sure There's Contagion In The Tears Of Friends.

Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.