We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile - The mind turns fool, before the cheek is dry
Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat defects of judgment, and the will subdue; walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon.
They only babble who practise not reflection
Wishing of all employments is the worst
Satire recoils whenever charged too high; round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile.