Man wants but little, nor that little long; How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
In chambers deep, Where waters sleep, What unknown treasures pave the floor.
[The] public path of life Is dirty.
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.