“Those who write ill, and they who ne’er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.”

And love’s the noblest frailty of the mind.

At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace.

Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.

Time and death shall depart and say in flying Love has found out a way to live, by dying.

O freedom, first delight of human kind!

What passion cannot music raise and quell!

He has not learned the first lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear.

The winds are out of breath.

The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind’s great bribe.

Politicians neither love nor hate.

Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.

As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.

Railing and praising were his usual themes; and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.

Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.

More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.