Words Are But Pictures Of Our Thoughts.

Every Age Has A Kind Of Universal Genius, Which Inclines Those That Live In It To Some Particular Studies.

At Home The Hateful Names Of Parties Cease, And Factious Souls Are Wearied Into Peace.

Farewell, Too Little, And Too Lately Known, Whom I Began To Think And Call My Own.

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

Joy Rul'd The Day, And Love The Night.