Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself.

Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform and mortal men lay hold on heaven.

Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?.

The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

Amid my list of blessings infinite, stands this the foremost, "that my heart has bled."

If we did but know how little some enjoy of the great things that they possess, there would not be much envy in the world.