What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
The man of wisdom is the man of years.
Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
A foe to God ne'er was true friend to man, Some sinister intent taints all he does.
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself.