Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.
If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
Woman's honor is nice as ermine; it will not bear a soil.
The commendation of adversaries is the greatest triumph of a writer, because it never comes unless extorted.
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.