Nature and nature's laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!

Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

It is not so much the being exempt from faults, as having overcome them, that is an advantage to us.

Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven, And though no science, fairly worth the seven.

Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!

The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!