The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head.
No one should be ashamed to admit he is wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.
The proper study of Mankind is Man.
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit a man; Simplicity, a child.
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
The greatest magnifying glasses in the world are a man's own eyes when they look upon his own person.
Party-spirit at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?
The ruling passion, be it what it will. The ruling passion conquers reason still.
Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
Trust not yourself, but your defects to know, make use of every friend and every foe.
'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.
