No Senses stronger than his brain can bear. Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly: What the advantage, if his finer eyes Study a Mite, not comprehend the Skies?... Or quick Effluvia darting thro' his brain, Die of a Rose, in Aromatic pain? If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the Spheres... Who finds not Providence all-good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?

On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.

But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, Whom age, and long experience render wise.

Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.

Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.