Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
Nothing but what astonishes is true.
All men think that all men are mortal but themselves.
What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Too low they build who build below the skies.
We push time from us, and we wish him back; * * * * * * Life we think long and short; death seek and shun.