See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,/ Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;
Something whose truth convinced at sight we find,
That gives us back the image of our mind.
As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul

A little learning is a dangerous thing.
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
and drinking largely sobers us again.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, whose body Nature is, and God the soul