A God all mercy is a God unjust.

Men should press forward, in fame's glorious chase; Nobles look backward, and so lose the race.

As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.

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

The man of wisdom is the man of years.

What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.

Be wise to-day; 't is madness to defer.