For mysterious things of faith, rely on the proponent, Heaven's authority.
He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
Virtue is her own reward.
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.