All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.

Whatever is, is right.

No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.

Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.

Thus God and nature linked the gen'ral frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.