Related:

• Obliged by hunger and request of friends. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
  Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 44...
• E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
  Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 12...
• No creature smarts so little as a fool. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
  Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 84...
• On wings of winds came flying all abroad." -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
  Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 218...
• Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
  Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 333...
• Means not, but blunders round about a meaning; And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad, It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 186...
• Destroy his fib or sophistry--in vain! The creature 's at his dirty work again.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 91...
• That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz'd his song.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 340...
• Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 213...