A lively faith will bear aloft the mind, and leave the luggage of good works behind.
Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.
Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.
The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.