Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.

Genius is of no country.

The best things carried to excess are wrong.

Genius is independent of situation.

It can’t be Nature, for it is not sense.

Prudent dullness marked him for a mayor.

Patience is sorrow’s salve.

Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.

Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.

Be England what she will, with all her faults she is my country still.

Keep up appearances; there lies the test. The world will give thee credit for the rest.

To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense.

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest.

The danger chiefly lies in acting well; no crime’s so great as daring to excel.