Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!

Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.

What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?

Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.

To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man's, into the world, as it is God's.

I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.

I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.