Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
Virtue alone has majesty in death.
What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
He sins against this life, who slights the next.
They only babble who practise not reflection