'T is impious in a good man to be sad.

Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.

The person of wisdom is the person of years.

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

A land of levity is a land of guilt.

In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, how complicate, how wonderful is man! Distinguished link in being's endless chain! Midway from nothing to the Deity! Dim miniature of greatness absolute! An heir of glory! A frail child of dust! Helpless immortal! Insect infinite! A worm! A God!