So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit a man; Simplicity, a child.
A field of glory is a field for all.
There are some solitary wretches who seem to have left the rest of mankind, only, as Eve left Adam, to meet the devil in private.
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.
Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.