He Who Would Pry Behind The Scenes

Set All Things In Their Own Peculiar Place, And Know That Order Is The Greatest Grace.

So Poetry, Which Is In Oxford Made An Art, In London Only Is A Trade.

How Easy 'tis, When Destiny Proves Kind, With Full-spread Sails To Run Before The Wind!

God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.

The Province Of The Soul Is Large Enough To Fill Up Every Cranny Of Your Time, And Leave You Much To Answer For If One Wretch Be Damned By Your Neglect.