In arms and science tis the same. Our rival's hurts create our fame.
And hope is but a dream of those that wake.
In his Odyssey, Homer explains that the hardest difficulties may be overcome by labor, and our fortune restored after the severest afflictions.
And they have my whimsies, but thou hast my heart.
Instinct and reason how can we divide? 'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride.
By cutting off the sense at the end of every first line, which must always rhyme to the next following, is produced too frequent an identity in sound, and brings every couplet to the point of an epigram.
Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink; So may he cease to write, and learn to think.
Circles to square and cubes to double would give a man excessive trouble. The longitude uncertain roams, in spite of Whiston and his bombs.
Let me skim the water with one oar, and with the other touch sand. [Go not out of your depth.]
Cured yesterday of my disease, I died last night of my physician.
Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.
For hope is but the dream of those that wake.
For, when with beauty we can virtue join, we paint the semblance of a form divine.
He will not carry his wealth to the waters of Acheron.
He's half absolv'd Who has confess'd.
And 'tis remarkable that they talk most who have the least to say.
Be to her virtues very kind. Be to her faults a little blind.