Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Let us not write at a loose rambling rate, in hope the world will wink at all our faults. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Those things which now seem frivolous and slight, Will be of serious consequence to you, When they have made you once ridiculous. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Beware what spirit rages in your breast; for one inspired, ten thousand are possessed. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
... truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
I will not quarrel with a slight mistake, Such as our nature's frailty may excuse. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Tis I that call, remember Milo's end, Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Whatsoever contradicts my sense, I hate to see, and never can believe. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Often try what weight you can support, And what your shoulders are too weak to bear. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
Pride (of all others the most dang'rous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought. — Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon Copy Share Image
