The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
Is not absence death to those who love?
If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!
In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.
Rogues in rags are kept in countenance by rogues in ruffles.
Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.