The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death; he walks with nature; and her paths are peace.

Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!

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

Some wits, too, like oracles, deal in ambiguities, but not with equal success; for though ambiguities are the first excellence of an imposter, they are the last of a wit.

Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.

Not all the pride of beauty; Those eyes, that tell us what the sun is made of; Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with life; Those hills of driven snow, which seen are felt: All these possessed are nought, but as they are The proof, the substance of an inward passion, And the rich plunder of a taken heart.

Man wants little, nor that little long.