Nature delights in progress; in advance.
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
Ah! what is human life? How, like the dial's tardy-moving shade, Day after day slides from us unperceiv'd! The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth; Too subtle is the movement to be seen; Yet soon the hour is up--and we are gone.
Time elaborately thrown away.
Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
The purpose firm is equal to the deed