How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform and mortal men lay hold on heaven.
The purpose firm is equal to the deed
Nothing but what astonishes is true.
As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.