Born Originals, how comes it to pass that we die Copies?
Praise, more divine than prayer; prayer points our ready path to heaven; praise is already there.
The person of wisdom is the person of years.
Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? What tho' we wade in Wealth, or soar in Fame? Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies;' and 'Dust to dust' concludes the noblest songs.
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new... is neither strong nor pure.
We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields