He who hath not a dram of folly in his mixture hath pounds of much worse matter in his composition.

We do not go to the theatre like our ancestors, to escape from the pressure of reality, so much as to confirm our experience of it.

Philanthropy, like charity, must begin at home.

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!

Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.

I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.

Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!