Ten Censure Wrong For One Who Writes

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.

Pleasures Are Ever In Our Hands Or Eyes; And When In Act They Cease, In Prospect Rise.

To Pardon Those Absurdities In Ourselves Which We Cannot Suffer In Others Is Neither Better Nor Worse Than To Be More Willing To Be Fools Ourselves Than To Have Others So.

There Is A Certain Majesty In Simplicity Which Is Far Above All The Quaintness Of Wit.

While Pensive Poets Painful Vigils Keep, Sleepless Themselves, To Give Their Readers Sleep.