The Best Part Of Every Author Is

Superfluous Lags The Veteran On The Stage, Till Pitying Nature Signs The Last Release, And Bids Afflicted Worth Retire To Peace.

Ladies, Stock And Tend Your Hive, Trifle Not At Thirty-five; For, Howe'er We Boast And Strive, Life Declines From Thirty-five; He That Ever Hopes To Thrive Must Begin By Thirty-five.

I Have Already Enjoyed Too Much; Give Me Something To Desire.

The Whole Power Of Cunning Is Privative; To Say Nothing, And To Do Nothing , Is The Utmost Of Its Reach. Yet Men, Thus Narrow By Nature And Mean By Art, Are Sometimes Able To Rise By The Miscarriages Of Bravery And The Openness Of Integrity, And, Watching Failures And Snatching Opportunities, Obtain Advantages Which Belong To Higher Characters.

Sir, He [bolingbroke] Was A Scoundrel And A Coward: A Scoundrel For Charging A Blunderbuss Against Religion And Morality; A Coward, Because He Had Not Resolution To Fire It Off Himself, But Left Half A Crown To A Beggarly Scotsman To Draw The Trigger At His Death.