TuesdayMay 05, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends; He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
There webs were spread of more than common size, And half-starved spiders prey'd on half-starved flies.
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow.
No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains To tax our labours and excise our brains.
Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Men the most infamous are fond of fame, And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
But, spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feelmust feel themselves.
Apt alliteration's artful aid.
It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
Just to the windward of the law.
Wise fear, you know, Forbids the robbing of a foe; But what, to serve our private ends, forbids the cheating of our friends?
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Genius is independent of situation.
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