Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.

A foe to God ne'er was true friend to man, Some sinister intent taints all he does.

An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there.

Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; it hangs upon a precipice, whose steep descent in last perdition ends.

Time elaborately thrown away.

In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom; but he who reflects not, never reaps; has no harvest from it, but carries the burden of age without the wages of experience; nor knows himself old, but from his infirmities, the parish register, and the contempt of mankind. And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.