“Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.”

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest. The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.”

“A little Learning is a dangerous Thing.”

“How vain are all these Glories, all our Pains,Unless good Sense preserve what Beauty gains:That Men may say, when we the Front-box grace,Behold the first in Virtue, as in Face!”

“Then most our trouble still when most admired,And still the more we give, the more required;Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease,Sure some to vex, but never all to please.”

“Our judgments, like our watches, nonego just alike, yet each believes his own”

“A little learning is a dangerous thing.Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring;There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,and drinking largely sobers us again.”