The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death; he walks with nature; and her paths are peace.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.
Friendship's the wine of life.
Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast.
Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.