Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.
God never made his work for man to mend.
One of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which either this age or nation has produced.
Men met each other with erected look, The steps were higher that they took; Friends to congratulate their friends made haste, And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd.
My love's a noble madness.
The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.