Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.

Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.

Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.

The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.

In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call; She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all .

The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd