It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!

A God alone can comprehend a God.

Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.

To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees

By night an atheist half-believes in God.

A land of levity is a land of guilt.