If my heart were not light, I would die.

I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.

My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.

Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot; Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes; Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.

It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .

Me care for te laws when te laws care for me.

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul; yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, and lead him forth as a domestic cur,--these are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.