Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.

Riches are chiefly good because they give us time.

The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.

Coleridge declares that a man cannot have a good conscience who refuses apple dumplings, and I confess that I am of the same opinion.

A man cannot have a pure mind who refuses apple dumplings.

Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.

The greatest pleasure I know, is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.