Look What A Little Vain Dust We

Unbounded Courage And Compassion Join'd, Tempering Each Other In The Victor's Mind, Alternately Proclaim Him Good And Great, And Make The Hero And The Man Complete.

How Beautiful Is Death, When Earn'd By Virtue!

The Mind That Lies Fallow But A Single Day, Sprouts Up In Follies That Are Only To Be Killed By A Constant And Assiduous Culture.

The Greatest Parts, Without Discretion As Observed By An Elegant Writer, May Be Fatal To Their Owner; As Polyphemus, Deprived Of His Eyes, Was Only The More Exposed On Account Of His Enormous Strength And Stature.

There Is Nobody So Weak Of Invention That Cannot Make Some Little Stories To Villify His Enemy.