The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.

The body, enervated by the excesses of the preceding day, weighs down and prostates the mind also.

Be this our wall of brass, to be conscious of having done no evil, and to grow pale at no accusation.

Designedly God covers in dark night the issue of futurity.

A man perfect to the finger tips.

The power of daring anything their fancy suggest, as always been conceded to the painter and the poet.

The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she who lives in fear will ever be a slave.