God never made his work for man to mend.
If by the people you understand the multitude, the hoi polloi, 'tis no matter what they think; they are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong; their judgment is a mere lottery.
He look'd in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.
Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.