The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.

Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance

Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame, Die fast away: only themselves die faster. The far-fam'd sculptor, and the laurell'd bard, Those bold insurancers of deathless fame, Supply their little feeble aids in vain.

How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.

Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before!

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd How long, how short, we know not:—this we know, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

How shocking must thy summons be, O death, to him that is at ease in his possessions! who, counting on long years of pleasure here, is quite unfurnished for the world to come.

Action, so to speak, is the genius of nature.

Industry is not only the instrument of improvement, but the foundation of pleasure. He who is a stranger to it may possess, but cannot enjoy, for it is labor only which gives relish to pleasure. It is the indispensable condition of possessing a sound mind in a sound body, and it is the appointed vehicle of every good to man.

Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

Affectation is certain deformity by forming themselves on fantastic models, the young begin with being ridiculous, and often end in being vicious.