Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.
A God all mercy is a God unjust.
Affliction is the good man's shining scene; prosperity conceals his brightest ray; as night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.