Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.

Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.

Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.

Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows.

They say everything in the world is good for something.

The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.

Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.