Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends; He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill (1731 - 1764)
Contributed by: Zaady
No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains To tax our labours and excise our brains.
Source: Night. Line 271.
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow.
Source: The Farewell. Line 38.
There webs were spread of more than common size, And half-starved spiders prey'd on half-starved flies.
Source: The Prophecy of Famine. Line 327.
Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
Source: The Apology. Line 232.
Apt alliteration's artful aid.
Source: The Prophecy of Famine. Line 86.
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Source: Epistle to William Hogarth. Line 645.
But, spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feel-must feel themselves.
Source: The Rosciad. Line 961.
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Source: The Farewell. Line 27.
Men the most infamous are fond of fame, And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.
Source: The Author. Line 233.
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