"Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys, Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours."

"I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume."

"The solemn fop; significant and budge; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge."

"I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, Of needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace."

"Our wasted oil unprofitably burns, Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns."

"That good diffused may more abundant grow."

"But that disease when soberly defined Is the false fire of an o'erheated mind."

"But Conversation, choose what theme we may, And chiefly when religion leads the way, Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs, Not as if raised by mere mechanic powers."

"The disencumbered Atlas of the state."

"He likes the country, but in truth must own, Most likes it, when he studies it in town."

"A business with an income at its heels Furnishes always oil for its own wheels."

"Absence of occupation is not rest, A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed."

"An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless when it goes as when it stands."

"Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn."

"Philologists, who chase A panting syllable through time and space, Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark, To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark."

"Till authors hear at length, one general cry, Tickle and entertain us, or we die!The loud demand from year to year the same, Beggars invention and makes fancy lame."

"I praise the Frenchman, his remark was shrewd — How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat Whom I may whisper — solitude is sweet."

"I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the center all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute."

"O solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place."

"I am out of humanity's reach. I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own."

"Society friendship and love Divinely bestow'd upon man, O had I the wings of a dove How soon I would taste you again!"

"Religion! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word!"

"My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see."

"There is mercy in every place, And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace And reconciles man to his lot."

"But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard; Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a Sabbath appear'd."

"How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light."

"John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he, Of famous London town."

"My sister, and my sister’s child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we."

"O'erjoyed was he to find That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind."

"The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl."

"A hat not much the worse for wear."

"Now let us sing — Long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And, when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!"

"Forced from home and all its pleasures Afric's coast I left forlorn, To increase a stranger's treasures O'er the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, Paid my price in paltry gold; But, though slave they have enrolled me, Minds are never to be sold."

"Fleecy locks and black complexion Cannot forfeit nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same."

"Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard and stronger Than the colour of our kind."

"Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours!"

"Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all that once lived here"

"It seems idolatry with some excuse, When our forefather Druids in their oaks Imagined sanctity."

"Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball, Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay Seeking her food, with ease might have purloined The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp. But fate thy growth decreed."

"So Fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can, Ye reasoners broad awake, whose busy search Of argument, employed too oft amiss, Sifts half the pleasures of short life away!"

"I will venture to assert, that a just translation of any ancient poet in rhyme is impossible. No human ingenuity can be equal to the task of closing every couplet with sounds homotonous, expressing at the same time the full sense, and only the full sense of his original."

"As when around the clear bright moon, the stars Shine in full splendor, and the winds are hush'd, The groves, the mountain-tops, the headland-heights Stand all apparent, not a vapor streaks The boundless blue, but ether open'd wide All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheer'd."

"My soul Shall bear that also; for, by practice taught, I have learned patience, having much endured."

"He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door."

"There is a bird who by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow."

"He sees that this great roundabout The world, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physic, law, Its customs and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says—what says he?—Caw."

"A kick that scarce would move a horse May kill a sound divine."

"And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile."

"The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown."

"For 'tis a truth well known to most, That whatsoever thing is lost, We seek it, ere it come to light, In every cranny but the right."