What Reason Weaves, By Passion Is Undone.

Superstition Is The Spleen Of The Soul.

I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

Calm, Thinking Villains, Whom No Faith Could Fix, Of Crooked Counsels And Dark Politics.

Seas Roll To Waft Me, Suns To Light Me Rise; My Footstool Earth, My Canopy The Skies.

Who Sees With Equal Eye, As God Of All, A Hero Perish Or A Sparrow Fall, Atoms Or Systems Into Ruin Hurl'd, And Now A Bubble Burst, And Now A World.