Nothing Is More Idle Than To Inquire

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

Stand Firm For Your Country, And Become A Man Honour'd And Lov'd: It Were A Noble Life, To Be Found Dead, Embracing Her.

It Very Seldom Happens To A Man That His Business Is His Pleasure.

Who Drives Fat Oxen Should Himself Be Fat.

To Tell Of Disappointment And Misery, To Thicken The Darkness Of Futurity, And Perplex The Labyrinth Of Uncertainty, Has Been Always A Delicious Employment Of The Poets