Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.

Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.

I begin where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.

The same ambition can destroy or save, and make a patriot as it makes a knave.

So upright Quakers please both man and God.

For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.

Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain Here earth and water seem to strive again, Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.