Wine lets no lover unrewarded go.

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.

Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice - A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.

He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.

I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

Beauty draws us with a single hair.