Those who depend on the merits of their ancestors may be said to search in the roots of the tree for those fruits which the branches ought to produce.

Too much wit makes the world rotten.

Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.

The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.

Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling.