| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Wentworth Dillon |
| | | | Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express |
| With painful care, but seeming easiness; |
| For truth shines brightest thro’ the plainest dress. |
| 1 |
| | Immodest words admit of no defence; |
| For want of decency is want of sense. |
| 2 |
| | Men still had faults, and men will have them still; |
| He that hath none, and lives as angels do, |
| Must be an angel. |
| 3 |
| | My God, my Father, and my Friend, |
| Do not forsake me in the end. |
| 4 |
| | Praise Him, each savage furious beast |
| That on His stores do daily feast; |
| And you tame slaves, of the laborious plough, |
| Your weary knees to your Creator bow. |
| 5 |
| | The first great work (a task performed by few) |
| Is that yourself may to yourself be true. |
| 6 |
| | The last loud trumpet’s wondrous sound, |
| Shall thro’ the rending tombs rebound, |
| And wake the nations under ground. |
| 7 |
| | The men, who labor and digest things most, |
| Will be much apter to despond than boast; |
| For if your author be profoundly good, |
| ’Twill cost you dear before he’s understood. |
| 8 |
| | The press, the pulpit, and the stage, |
| Conspire to censure and expose our age. |
| 9 |
| | Thou whom avenging pow’rs obey, |
| Cancel my debt (too great to pay) |
| Before the sad accounting day. |
| 10 |
| And choose an author as you choose a friend. | 11 |
| But words once spoke can never be recall’d. | 12 |
| The multitude is always in the wrong. | 13 | | |
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