The ruling passion, be it what it will. The ruling passion conquers reason still.
Honour forbid! at whose unrivall'd shrine 105 Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign. Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost! 110 How shall I, then, your helpless fame.
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
A bee is not a busier animal than a blockhe.
Whatever is, is right.
Like Cato, give his little senate laws, and sit attentive to his own applause.