And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? All fear, none aid you, and few understand.

A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.

Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

That character in conversation which commonly passes for agreeable is made up of civility and falsehood.

In death a hero, as in life a friend!

Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master hand alone can reach.