"For what more often than not is the cause of all our miseries, but the ill-matching of our desires, and the ill-governing of our affections?"

"What boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?"

"How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns."

"Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of Eev'n or Morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summer's Rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine."

"Lest we should be too much elated with our successes, or too much dejected by our misfortunes."