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Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clam'rous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
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Some people will never learn anything, for this reason, because they understand everything too soon.
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'Boast not my fall (he cried), insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low; Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind; All that I dread is leaving you behind! Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And burn in Cupid's flames - but burn alive.'
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Our passions are like convulsion-fits, which, though they make us stronger for the time, leave us the weaker ever after.
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I think a good deal may be said to extenuate the fault of bad Poets. What we call a Genius, is hard to be distinguish'd by a man himself, from a strong inclination: and if his genius be ever so great, he can not at first discover it any other way, than by giving way to that prevalent propensity which renders him the more liable to be mistaken.
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Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
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True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
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What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
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'Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed' was the ninth Beatitude which a man of wit (who, like a man of wit, was a long time in gaol) added to the eighth.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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Say, is not absence death to those who love?
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The flying Rumours gather'd as they roll'd, Scarce any Tale was sooner heard than told; And all who told it, added something new, And all who heard it, made Enlargements too, In ev'ry Ear it spread, on ev'ry Tongue it grew.
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A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing;Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring:There shallow Draughts intoxicate the Brain,And drinking largely sobers us again.
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Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child.
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Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
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On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates.
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Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.
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Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
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The world recedes; it disappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring! Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
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To be angry, is to revenge the fault of others upon ourselves.
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Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
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Well, if our author in the wife offendsHe has a husband that will make amends;He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving,And sure such kind good creatures may be living.
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Coffee, which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
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I think it was a generous thought, and one that fow'd from an exalted mind, that it was not improbable but God might be delighted with the various methods of worshipping him, which divided the whole world.