The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.

Better to err with Pope, than shine with Pye.

I’ll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

And when we think we lead, we are most led.

Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.

The tenor’s voice is spoilt by affectation, And for the bass, the beast can only bellow; In fact, he had no singing education, An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

I have met with most poetry on trunks; so that I am pat to consider the trunk-maker as the sexton of authorship

Fools are my theme; let satire be my song.

The reason that adulation is not displeasing is that, though untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie.

The ‘good old times’ – all times when old are good.

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.

Romances paint at full length people’s wooings, but only give a bust of marriages: but no one cares for matrimonial cooings

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether

I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.

Friendship is Love without his wings!

Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss

A tigress robb’d of young, a lioness, Or any interesting beast of prey, Are similes at hand for the distress Of ladies who cannot have their own way

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day…

There is another old poet whose name I do not now remember who said, Adversity is the first path to truth

All is to be feared where all is to be lost

A little still she strove, and much repented, and whispering, “”I will ne’er consent”” – consented

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

The loudest wit I e’er was deafened with.

History is the devil’s scripture.

Oh! there is an organ playing in the street – a waltz too! I must leave off to listen.

The fact is that my wife if she had common sense would have more power over me than any other whatsoever, for my heart always alights upon the nearest perch.

Are we aware of our obligations to a mob? It is the mob that labor in your fields and serve in your houses — that man your navy, and recruit your army — that have...

I have always laid it down as a maxim /and found it justified by experience /that a man and a woman make far better friendships than can exist between two of the same sex /but...

The land of self-interest groans from shore to shore, / For fear that plenty should attain the poor.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; / A palace and a prison on each hand.

Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.

By many stories, / And true, we learn the angels are all Tories.

The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands.

Years steal Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; And Life’s enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim

When Newton saw an apple fall, he found In that slight startle from his contemplation – ‘Tis said (for I’ll not answer above ground For any sage’s creed or calculation) – A mode of proving...

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.

The power of thought, the magic of the mind.

Physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem; but although we sneer – In health – when ill we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer

To fly from, need not be to hate mankind

Tis pleasant, sure, to see one’s name in print; A book’s a book, although there’s nothing’ in ‘t

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

Posterity will never survey a nobler grave than this: here lie the bones of Castlereagh: stop, traveler, and piss.

By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.

He who is only just is cruel. Who on earth could live were all judged justly.

When Bishop Berkeley said `there was no matter’, / And proved it – ’twas no matter what he said.

I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge / Is for a flying enemy.

Of all the barbarous middle ages, that which is most barbarous is the middle age of man! it is – I really scarce know what; but when we hover between fool and sage, and don’t...