| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Roscommon |
| | | | Often try what weight you can support, |
| And what your shoulders are too weak to bear. |
| 1 |
| | Pride, of all others the most dangerous fault, |
| Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought. |
| 2 |
| | Those things which now seem frivolous and slight, |
| Will be of serious consequence to you, |
| When they have made you once ridiculous. |
| 3 |
| | What you keep by you, you may change and mend; |
| But words once spoke can never be recall’d. |
| 4 |
| | Whatsoever contradicts my sense, |
| I hate to see, and never can believe. |
| 5 |
| Beware what spirit rages in your breast; for one inspired, ten thousand are possessed. | 6 |
| Clouds dissolved the thirsty ground supply. | 7 |
| Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul. | 8 |
| Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment. | 9 |
| Let us not write at a loose rambling rate, in hope the world will wink at all our faults. | 10 |
| Our heroes of the former days deserved and gained their never-fading bays. | 11 |
| Sound judgment is the ground of writing well. | 12 |
| The multitude is always in the wrong. | 13 |
| True friends appear less moved than counterfeit. | 14 |
| Truth and fiction are so aptly mixed that all seems uniform and of a piece. | 15 |
| We weep and laugh, as we see others do. | 16 |
| Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed. | 17 |
| You gain your point if your industrious art can make unusual words easy. | 18 |
| You must not think that a satiric style allows of scandalous and brutish words; the better sort abhor scurrility. | 19 | | |
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