The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
Health consists with temperance alone.
Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore; full well they merit all they feel, and more: unaw by precepts, human or divine, like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join.
When I die, I should be ashamed to leave enough to build me a monument if there were a wanting friend above ground. I would enjoy the pleasure of what I give by giving it alive and seeing another enjoy it.