It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.

I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.

Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note Soft moves the dipping oar.

A willing heart adds feather to the heel.

He that will not give some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, for other's good, is a poor, frozen churl.

I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!

Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.